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diff --git a/44224-0.txt b/44224-0.txt index 139a3d5..2fc568c 100644 --- a/44224-0.txt +++ b/44224-0.txt @@ -1,35 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Old Judge Priest, by Irvin S. Cobb - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Old Judge Priest - (Sequel to “Back Home”) - -Author: Irvin S. Cobb - -Release Date: November 18, 2013 [EBook #44224] -Last Updated: March 11, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD JUDGE PRIEST *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44224 *** OLD JUDGE PRIEST @@ -9705,358 +9674,4 @@ diamond! Jeff, it's the most beautiful evenin' I ever remember!” End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Old Judge Priest, by Irvin S. 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Cobb </title> @@ -38,42 +39,7 @@ Old Judge Priest, by Irvin S. Cobb </style> </head> <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Old Judge Priest, by Irvin S. Cobb - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Old Judge Priest -(Sequel to "Back Home") - -Author: Irvin S. Cobb - -Release Date: November 18, 2013 [EBook #44224] -Last Updated: March 11, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD JUDGE PRIEST *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -</pre> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44224 ***</div> <div style="height: 8em;"> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> @@ -11134,378 +11100,6 @@ diamond! Jeff, it's the most beautiful evenin' I ever remember!” <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> </div> - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Old Judge Priest, by Irvin S. Cobb - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD JUDGE PRIEST *** - -***** This file should be named 44224-h.htm or 44224-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/2/2/44224/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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-Old Judge Priest, by Irvin S. Cobb
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Old Judge Priest, by Irvin S. Cobb
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: Old Judge Priest
-(Sequel to "Back Home")
-
-Author: Irvin S. Cobb
-
-Release Date: November 18, 2013 [EBook #44224]
-Last Updated: March 11, 2018
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD JUDGE PRIEST ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-<div style="height: 8em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h1>
-OLD JUDGE PRIEST
-</h1>
-<h2>
-By Irvin S. Cobb
-</h2>
-<p>
-<br />
-</p>
-<h4>
-New York George H. Doran Company <br /> <br /> Copyright, 1918
-</h4>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<p>
-<b>CONTENTS</b>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>OLD JUDGE PRIEST</b> </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I. THE LORD PROVIDES </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II. A BLENDING OF THE PARABLES </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III. JUDGE PRIEST COMES BACK </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV. A CHAPTER FROM THE LIFE OF AN ANT </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V. SERGEANT JIMMY BAGBY'S FEET </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI. ACCORDING TO THE CODE </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII. FORREST'S LAST CHARGE </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII. DOUBLE-BARRELLED JUSTICE </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX. A BEAUTIFUL EVENING * </a>
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-OLD JUDGE PRIEST
-</h2>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-I. THE LORD PROVIDES
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HIS story begins with Judge Priest sitting at his desk at his chambers at
-the old courthouse. I have a suspicion that it will end with him sitting
-there. As to that small detail I cannot at this time be quite positive.
-Man proposes, but facts will have their way.
-</p>
-<p>
-If so be you have read divers earlier tales of my telling you already know
-the setting for the opening scene here. You are to picture first the big
-bare room, high-ceiled and square of shape, its plastering cracked and
-stained, its wall cases burdened with law books in splotched leather
-jerkins; and some of the books stand straight and upright, showing
-themselves to be confident of the rectitude of all statements made
-therein, and some slant over sideways against their fellows to the right
-or the left, as though craving confirmatory support for their contents.
-</p>
-<p>
-Observe also the water bucket on the little shelf in the corner, with the
-gourd dipper hanging handily by; the art calendar, presented with the
-compliments of the Langstock Lumber Company, tacked against the door; the
-spittoon on the floor; the steel engraving of President Davis and his
-Cabinet facing you as you enter; the two wide windows opening upon the
-west side of the square; the woodwork, which is of white poplar, but
-grained by old Mr. Kane, our leading house, sign and portrait painter,
-into what he reckoned to be a plausible imitation of the fibrillar
-eccentricities of black walnut; and in the middle of all this, hunched
-down behind his desk like a rifleman in a pit, is Judge Priest, in a
-confusing muddle of broad, stooped shoulders, wrinkled garments and fat
-short legs.
-</p>
-<p>
-Summertime would have revealed him clad in linen, or alpaca, or ample
-garments of homespun hemp, but this particular day, being a day in the
-latter part of October, Judge Priest's limbs and body were clothed in
-woollen coverings. The first grate fire of the season burned in his grate.
-There was a local superstition current to the effect that our courthouse
-was heated with steam. Years before, a bond issue to provide the requisite
-funds for this purpose had been voted after much public discussion pro and
-con. Thereafter, for a space, contractors and journeymen artisans made
-free of the building, to the great discomfort of certain families of
-resident rats, old settler rats really, that had come to look upon their
-cozy habitats behind the wainscoting as homes for life. Anon iron pipes
-emerged at unexpected and jutting angles from the baseboards here and
-there, to coil in the corners or else to climb the walls, joint upon
-joint, and festoon themselves kinkily against the ceilings.
-</p>
-<p>
-Physically the result was satisfying to the eye of the taxpayer; but if
-the main function of a heating plant be to provide heat, then the
-innovation might hardly be termed an unqualified success. Official
-dwellers of the premises maintained that the pipes never got really hot to
-the touch before along toward the Fourth of July, remaining so until
-September, when they began perceptibly to cool off again. Down in the
-cellar the darky janitor might feed the fire box until his spine cracked
-and the boilers seethed and simmered, but the steam somehow seemed to get
-lost in transit, manifesting itself on the floors above only in a metallic
-clanking and clacking, which had been known seriously to annoy lawyers in
-the act of offering argument to judge and jurors. When warmth was needed
-to dispel the chill in his own quarters Judge Priest always had a fire
-kindled in the fireplace.
-</p>
-<p>
-He had had one made and kindled that morning. All day the red coals had
-glowed between the chinks in the pot-bellied grate and the friendly flames
-had hummed up the flue, renewing neighbourly acquaintance with last
-winter's soot that made fringes on the blackened fire brick, so that now
-the room was in a glow. Little tiaras of sweat beaded out on the judge's
-bald forehead as he laboured over the papers in a certain case, and
-frequently he laid down his pen that he might use both hands, instead of
-his left only, to reach and rub remote portions of his person. Doing this,
-he stretched his arms until red strips showed below the ends of his
-wristbands. At a distance you would have said the judge was wearing coral
-bracelets.
-</p>
-<p>
-The sunlight that had streamed in all afternoon through the two windows
-began to fade, and little shadows that stayed hidden through the day
-crawled under the door from the hall beyond and crept like timorous mice
-across the planking, ready to dart back the moment the gas was lit. Judge
-Priest strained to reach an especially itchy spot between his shoulder
-blades and addressed words to Jeff Poindexter, coloured, his body servant
-and house boy.
-</p>
-<p>
-“They ain't so very purty to look at—red flannels ain't,” said the
-judge. “But, Jeff, I've noticed this—they certainly are mighty
-lively company till you git used to 'em. I never am the least bit lonely
-fur the first few days after I put on my heavy underwear.”
- </p>
-<p>
-There was no answer from Jeff except a deep, soft breath. He slept. At a
-customary hour he had come with Mittie May, the white mare, and the buggy
-to take Judge Priest home to supper, and had found the judge engaged
-beyond his normal quitting time. That, however, had not discommoded Jeff.
-Jeff always knew what to do with his spare moments. Jeff always had a way
-of spending the long winter evenings. He leaned now against a bookrack,
-with his elbow on the top shelf, napping lightly. Jeff preferred to sleep
-lying down or sitting down, but he could sleep upon his feet too—and
-frequently did.
-</p>
-<p>
-Having, by brisk scratching movements, assuaged the irritation between his
-shoulder blades, the judge picked up his pen and shoved it across a sheet
-of legal cap that already was half covered with his fine, close writing.
-He never dictated his decisions, but always wrote them out by hand. The
-pen nib travelled along steadily for awhile. Eventually words in a
-typewritten petition that rested on the desk at his left caught the
-judge's eye.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Huh!” he grunted, and read the quoted phrase, “'True Believers'
-Afro-American Church of Zion, sometimes called——'” Without
-turning his head he again hailed his slumbering servitor: “Jeff, why do
-yourall call that there little church-house down by the river Possum
-Trot?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Jeff roused and grunted, shaking his head dear of the lingering dregs of
-drowsiness.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Suh?” he inquired. “Wuz you speakin' to me, Jedge?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, I was. Whut's the reason amongst your people fur callin' that little
-church down on the river front Possum Trot?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Jeff chuckled an evasive chuckle before he made answer. For all the close
-relations that existed between him and his indulgent employer, Jeff had no
-intention of revealing any of the secrets of the highly secretive breed of
-humans to which he belonged. His is a race which, upon the surface of
-things, seems to invite the ridicule of an outer and a higher world, yet
-dreads that same ridicule above all things. Show me the white man who
-claims to know intimately the workings of his black servant's mind, who
-professes to be able to tell anything of any negro's lodge affiliations or
-social habits or private affairs, and I will show you a born liar.
-</p>
-<p>
-Mightily well Jeff understood the how and the why and the wherefore of the
-derisive hate borne by the more orthodox creeds among his people for the
-strange new sect known as the True Believers. He could have traced out
-step by step, with circumstantial detail, the progress of the internal
-feud within the despised congregation that led to the upspringing of rival
-sets of claimants to the church property, and to the litigation that had
-thrown the whole tangled business into the courts for final adjudication.
-But except in company of his own choosing and his own colour, wild horses
-could not have drawn that knowledge from Jeff, although it would have
-pained him to think any white person who had a claim upon his friendship
-suspected him of concealment of any detail whatsoever.
-</p>
-<p>
-“He-he,” chuckled Jeff. “I reckin that's jes' nigger foolishness. Me, I
-don' know no reason why they sh'd call a church by no sech a name as that.
-I ain't never had no truck wid 'em ole True Believers, myse'f. I knows
-some calls 'em the Do-Righters, and some calls 'em the Possum Trotters.”
- His tone subtly altered to one of innocent bewilderment: “Whut you doin',
-Jedge, pesterin' yo'se'f wid sech low-down trash as them darkies is?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Further discussion of the affairs of the strange faith that was divided
-against itself might have ensued but that an interruption came. Steps
-sounded in the long hallway that split the lower floor of the old
-courthouse lengthwise, and at a door—not Judge Priest's own door but
-the door of the closed circuit-court chamber adjoining—a knocking
-sounded, at first gently, then louder and more insistent.
-</p>
-<p>
-“See who 'tis out yonder, Jeff,” bade Judge Priest. “And ef it's anybody
-wantin' to see me I ain't got time to see 'em without it's somethin'
-important. I aim to finish up this job before we go on home.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He bent to his task again. But a sudden draft of air whisked certain loose
-sheets off his desk, carrying them toward the fireplace, and he swung
-about to find a woman in his doorway. She was a big, upstanding woman,
-overfleshed and overdressed, and upon her face she bore the sign of her
-profession as plainly and indubitably as though it had been branded there
-in scarlet letters.
-</p>
-<p>
-The old man's eyes narrowed as he recognised her. But up he got on the
-instant and bowed before her. No being created in the image of a woman
-ever had reason to complain that in her presence Judge Priest forgot his
-manners.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Howdy do, ma'am,” he said ceremoniously. “Will you walk in? I'm sort of
-busy jest at present.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That's what your nigger boy told me, outside,” she said; “but I came
-right on in any-way.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ah-hah, so I observe,” stated Judge Priest dryly, but none the less
-politely; “mout I enquire the purpose of this here call?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, sir; I'm a-goin' to tell you what brought me here without wastin'
-any more words than I can help,” said the woman. “No, thank you,' Judge,”
- she went on as he motioned her toward a seat; “I guess I can say what I've
-got to say, standin' up. But you set down, please, Judge.”!
-</p>
-<p>
-She advanced to the side of his desk as he settled back in his chair, and
-rested one broad flat hand upon the desk top. Three or four heavy,
-bejewelled bangles that were on her arm slipped down her gloved wrist with
-a clinking sound. Her voice was coarsened and flat; it was more like a
-man's voice than a woman's, and she spoke with a masculine directness.
-</p>
-<p>
-“There was a girl died at my house early this mornin',” she told him. “She
-died about a quarter past four o'clock. She had something like pneumonia.
-She hadn't been sick but two days; she wasn't very strong to start with
-anyhow. Viola St. Claire was the name she went by here. I don't know what
-her real name was—she never told anybody what it was. She wasn't
-much of a hand to talk about herself. She must have been nice people
-though, because she was always nice and ladylike, no matter what happened.
-From what I gathered off and on, she came here from some little town down
-near Memphis. I certainly liked that girl. She'd been with me nearly ten
-months. She wasn't more than nineteen years old.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, all day yestiddy she was out of her head with a high fever. But
-just before she died she come to and her mind cleared up. The doctor was
-gone—old Doctor Lake. He'd done all he could for her and he left for
-his home about midnight, leavin' word that he was to be called if there
-was any change. Only there wasn't time to call him; it all came so sudden.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I was settin' by her when she opened her eyes and whispered, sort of
-gaspin', and called me by my name. Well, you could 'a' knocked me down
-with a feather. From the time she started sinkin' nobody thought she'd
-ever get her senses back. She called me, and I leaned over her and asked
-her what it was she wanted, and she told me. She knew she was dyin'. She
-told me she'd been raised right, which I knew already without her tellin'
-me, and she said she'd been a Christian girl before she made her big
-mistake. And she told me she wanted to be buried like a Christian, from a
-regular church, with a sermon and flowers and music and all that. She made
-me promise that I'd see it was done just that way. She made me put my hand
-in her hand and promise her. She shut her eyes then, like she was
-satisfied, and in a minute or two after that she died, still holdin' on
-tight to my hand. There wasn't nobody else there—just me and her—and
-it was about a quarter past four o'clock in the mornin'.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, ma'am, I'm very sorry for that poor child. I am so,” said Judge
-Priest, and his tone showed he meant it; “yit still I don't understand
-your purpose in comin' to me, without you need money to bury her.” His
-hand went toward his flank, where he kept his wallet.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Keep your hand out of your pocket, please, sir,” said the woman. “I ain't
-callin' on anybody for help in a money way. That's all been attended to. I
-telephoned the undertaker the first thing this mornin'.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It's something else I wanted to speak with you about. Well, I didn't
-hardly wait to get my breakfast down before I started off to keep my word
-to Viola. And I've been on the constant go ever since. I've rid miles on
-the street cars, and I've walked afoot until the bottoms of my feet both
-feel like boils right this minute, tryin' to find somebody that was fitten
-to preach a sermon over that dead girl.
-</p>
-<p>
-“First I made the rounds of the preachers of all the big churches. Doctor
-Cavendar was my first choice; from what I've heard said about him he's a
-mighty good man. But he ain't in town. His wife told me he'd gone off to
-district conference, whatever that is. So then I went to all the others,
-one by one. I even went 'way up on Alabama Street—to that there
-little mission church in the old Acme rink. The old man that runs the
-mission—I forget his name—he does a heap of work among poor
-people and down-and-out people, and I guess he might've said yes, only
-he's right bad off himself. He's sick in bed.”
- </p>
-<p>
-She laughed mirthlessly.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, I went everywhere, I went to all of 'em. There was one or two acted
-like they was afraid I might soil their clothes if I got too close to 'em.
-They kept me standin' in the doors of their studies so as they could talk
-back to me from a safe distance. Some of the others, though, asked me
-inside and treated me decent. But they every last one of 'em said no.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Do you mean to tell me that not a single minister in this whole city is
-willin' to hold a service over that dead girl?” Judge Priest shrilled at
-her with vehement astonishment—and something else—in his
-voice.
-</p>
-<p>
-“No, no, not that,” the woman made haste to explain. “There wasn't a
-single one of 'em but said he'd come to my house and conduct the
-exercises. They was all willin' enough to go to the grave too. But you see
-that wouldn't do. I explained to 'em, until I almost lost my voice, that
-it had to be a funeral in a regular church, with flowers and music and
-all. That poor girl got it into her mind somehow, I think, that she'd have
-a better chance in the next world if she went out of this one like a
-Christian should ought to go. I explained all that to 'em, and from
-explainin' I took to arguin' with 'em, and then to pleadin' and beggin'. I
-bemeaned myself before them preachers. I was actually ready to go down on
-my knees before 'em.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, I told 'em the full circumstances. I told 'em I just had to keep my
-promise. I'm afraid not to keep it. I've lived my own life in my own way
-and I guess I've got a lot of things to answer for. I ain't worryin' about
-that—now. But you don't dare to break a promise that's made to the
-dyin'. They come back and ha'nt you. I've always heard that and I know
-it's true.
-</p>
-<p>
-“One after another I told those preachers just exactly how it was, but
-still they all said no. Every one of 'em said his board of deacons or
-elders or trustees, or something like that, wouldn't stand for openin' up
-their church for Viola. I always thought a preacher could run his church
-to suit himself, but from what I've heard to-day I know now he takes his
-orders from somebody else. So finally, when I was about to give up, I
-thought about you and I come here as straight as I could walk.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But, ma'am,” he said, “I'm not a regular church member myself. I reckin I
-oughter be, but I ain't. And I still fail to understand why you should
-think I could serve you, though I don't mind tellin' you I'd be mighty
-glad to ef I could.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'll tell you why. I never spoke to you but once before in my life, but I
-made up my mind then what kind of a man you was. Maybe you don't remember
-it, Judge, but two years ago this comin' December that there Law and Order
-League fixed up to run me out of this town. They didn't succeed, but they
-did have me indicted by the Grand Jury, and I come up before you and
-pleaded guilty—they had the evidence on me all right. You fined me,
-you fined me the limit, and I guess if I hadn't 'a' had the money to pay
-the fine I'd 'a' gone to jail. But the main point with me was that you
-treated me like a lady.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I know what I am good and well, but I don't like to have somebody always
-throwin' it up to me. I've got feelin's the same as anybody else has. You
-made that little deputy sheriff quit shovin' me round and you called me
-Mizzis Cramp to my face, right out in court. I've been Old Mallie Cramp to
-everybody in this town so long I'd mighty near forgot I ever had a handle
-on my name, until you reminded me of it. You was polite to me and decent
-to me, and you acted like you was sorry to see a white woman fetched up in
-court, even if you didn't say it right out. I ain't forgot that. I ain't
-ever goin' to forget it. And awhile ago, when I was all beat out and
-discouraged, I said to myself that if there was one man left in this town
-who could maybe help me to keep my promise to that dead girl, Judge
-William Pitman Priest was the man. That's why I'm here.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'm sorry, ma'am, sorry fur you and sorry fur that dead child,” said
-Judge Priest slowly. “I wish I could help you. I wish I knew how to advise
-you. But I reckin those gentlemen were right in whut they said to you
-to-day. I reckin probably their elders would object to them openin' up
-their churches, under the circumstances. And I'm mightily afraid I ain't
-got any influence I could bring to bear in any quarter. Did you go to
-Father Minor? He's a good friend of mine; we was soldiers together in the
-war—him and me. Mebbe—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I thought of him,” said the woman hopelessly; “but you see, Judge, Viola
-didn't belong to his church. She was raised a Protestant, she told me so.
-I guess he couldn't do nothin'.” in.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ah-hah, I see,” said the judge, and in his perplexity he bent his head
-and rubbed his broad expanse of pink bald brow fretfully, as though to
-stimulate thought within by friction without. His left hand fell into the
-litter of documents upon his desk. Absently his fingers shuffled them back
-and forth under his eyes. He straightened himself alertly.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Was it stated—was it specified that a preacher must hold the
-funeral service over that dead girl?” he inquired.
-</p>
-<p>
-The woman caught eagerly at the inflection that had come into his voice.
-</p>
-<p>
-“No, sir,” she answered; “all she said was that it must be in a church and
-with some flowers and some music. But I never heard of anybody preachin' a
-regular sermon without it was a regular preacher. Did you ever, Judge?”
- Doubt and renewed disappointment battered at her just-born hopes.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I reckin mebbe there have been extraordinary occasions where an amateur
-stepped in and done the best he could,” said the judge. “Mebbe some folks
-here on earth couldn't excuse sech presumption as that, but I reckin
-they'd understand how it was up yonder.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He stood up, facing her, and spoke as one making a solemn promise:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ma'am, you needn't worry yourself any longer. You kin go on back to your
-home. That dead child is goin' to have whut she asked for. I give you my
-word on it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-She strove to put a question, but he kept on: “I ain't prepared to give
-you the full details yit. You see I don't know myself jest exactly whut
-they'll be. But inside of an hour from now I'll be seein' Jansen and he'll
-notify you in regards to the hour and the place and the rest of it. Kin
-you rest satisfied with that?”
- </p>
-<p>
-She nodded, trying to utter words and not succeeding. Emotion shook her
-gross shape until the big gold bands on her arms jangled together.
-</p>
-<p>
-“So, ef you'll kindly excuse me, I've got quite a number of things to do
-betwixt now and suppertime. I kind of figger I'm goin' to be right busy.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He stepped to the threshold and called out down the hallway, which by now
-was a long, dim tunnel of thickening shadows.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Jeff, oh Jeff, where are you, boy?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Comin', Jedge.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The speaker emerged from the gloom that was only a few shades darker than
-himself.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Jeff,” bade his master, “I want you to show this lady the way out—it's
-black as pitch in that there hall. And, Jeff, listen here! When you've
-done that I want you to go and find the sheriff fur me. Ef he's left his
-office—and I s'pose he has by now—you go on out to his house,
-or wherever he is, and find him and tell him I want to see him here right
-away.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He swung his ponderous old body about and bowed with a homely courtesy:
-</p>
-<p>
-“And now I bid you good night, ma'am.” At the cross sill of the door she
-halted: “Judge—about gettin' somebody to carry the coffin in and out—did
-you think about that? She was such a little thing—she won't be very
-heavy—but still, at that, I don't know anybody—any men—that
-would be willin'——”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Ma'am,” said Judge Priest gravely, “ef I was you I wouldn't worry about
-who the pallbearers will be. I reckin the Lord will provide. I've took
-notice that He always does ef you'll only meet Him halfway.”
- </p>
-<p>
-For a fact the judge was a busy man during the hour which followed upon
-all this, the hour between twilight and night. Over the telephone he first
-called up M. Jansen, our leading undertaker; indeed at that time our only
-one, excusing the coloured undertaker on Locust Street. He had converse at
-length with M. Jansen. Then he called up Doctor Lake, a most dependable
-person in sickness, and when you were in good health too. Then last of all
-he called up a certain widow who lived in those days, Mrs. Matilda Weeks
-by name; and this lady was what is commonly called, a character. In her
-case the title was just and justified. Of character she had more than
-almost anybody I ever knew.
-</p>
-<p>
-Mrs. Weeks didn't observe precedents. She made them. She cared so little
-for following after public opinion that public opinion usually followed
-alter her—when it had recovered from the shock and reorganised
-itself. There were two sides to her tongue: for some a sharp and acid
-side, and then again for some a sweet and gentle side—and mainly
-these last were the weak and the erring and the shiftless, those underfoot
-and trodden down. Moving through this life in a calm, deliberative,
-determined way, always along paths of her making and her choosing, obeying
-only the beck of her own mind, doing good where she might, with a perfect
-disregard for what the truly good might think about it, Mrs. Weeks was
-daily guilty of acts that scandalised all proper people. But the improper
-ones worshipped the ground her feet touched as she walked. She was much
-like that disciple of Joppa named Tabitha, which by interpretation is
-called Dorcas, of whom it is written that she was full of good works and
-almsdeeds which she did. Yes, you might safely call Mrs. Weeks a
-character.
-</p>
-<p>
-With her, back and forth across the telephone wire, Judge Priest had
-extended speech. Then he hung up the receiver and went home alone to a
-late and badly burnt supper. Aunt Dilsey Turner, the titular goddess of
-his kitchen, was a queen cook among cooks, but she could keep victuals hot
-without scorching them for just so long and no longer. She took pains to
-say as much, standing in the dining-room door with her knuckles on her
-hips. But the judge didn't pay much attention to Aunt Dilsey's vigorous
-remarks. He had other things on his mind.
-</p>
-<p>
-Down our way this present generation has seen a good many conspicuous and
-prominent funerals. Until very recently we rather specialised in funerals.
-Before moving pictures sprang up so numerously funerals provided decorous
-and melancholy divertisement for many whose lives, otherwise, were rather
-aridly devoid of sources of inexpensive excitement. Among us were persons—old
-Mrs. Whitridge was a typical example—who hadn't missed a funeral of
-any consequence for years and years back. Let some one else provide the
-remains, and they would assemble in such number as to furnish a gathering,
-satisfying in its size and solemn in its impressiveness. They took the run
-of funerals as they came. But there were some funerals which, having taken
-place, stood forth in the public estimation forever after as events to be
-remembered. They were mortuary milestones on the highway of community
-life.
-</p>
-<p>
-For instance, those who were of suitable age to attend it are never going
-to forget the burial that the town gave lazy, loud-mouthed Lute Montjoy,
-he being the negro fireman on the ferryboat who jumped into the river that
-time, aiming to save the small child of a Hungarian immigrant family bound
-for somewhere up in the Cumberland on the steamer <i>Goldenrod</i>. The
-baby ran across the boiler deck and went overboard, and the mother
-screamed, and Lute saw what had happened and he jumped. He was a good
-swimmer all right, and in half a dozen strokes he reached the strangling
-mite in the water; but then the current caught him—the June rise was
-on—and sucked him downstream into the narrow, swirling place between
-the steamboat's hull and the outside of the upper wharf boat, and he went
-under and stayed under.
-</p>
-<p>
-Next morning when the dragnets caught and brought him up, one of his
-stiffened black arms still encircled the body of the white child, in a
-grip that could hardly be loosened. White and black, everybody turned out
-to bury Lute Montjoy. In the services at the church two of the leading
-clergymen assisted, turn and turn about; and at the graveside Colonel
-Horatio Farrell, dean of the local bar and the champion orator of seven
-counties, delivered an hour-long oration, calling Lute by such names as
-Lute, lying there cased in mahogany with silver trimmings, had never heard
-applied to him while he lived. Popular subscription provided the fund that
-paid for the stone to mark his grave and to perpetuate the memory of his
-deed. You can see the shaft to this day. It rises white and high among the
-trees in Elm Grove Cemetery, and the word <i>Hero</i> is cut deep in its
-marble face.
-</p>
-<p>
-Then there was the funeral of old Mr. Simon Leatheritt, mightiest among
-local financiers. That, indeed, was a funeral to be cherished in the
-cranial memory casket of any person so favoured by fortune as to have been
-present; a funeral that was felt to be a credit alike to deceased and to
-bereaved; a funeral that by its grandeur would surely have impressed the
-late and, in a manner of speaking, lamented Leatheritt, even though its
-cost would have panged him; in short, an epoch-making and an era-breeding
-funeral.
-</p>
-<p>
-In the course of a long married career this was the widow's first
-opportunity to cut loose and spend money without having to account for it
-by dollar, by dime and by cent to a higher authority, and she certainly
-did cut loose, sparing absolutely no pains in the effort to do her recent
-husband honour. At a cost calculated as running into three figures for
-that one item alone, she imported the prize male tenor of a St. Louis
-cathedral choir to enrich the proceedings with his glowing measures. This
-person, who was a person with eyes too large for a man and a mouth too
-small, rendered Abide With Me in a fashion so magnificent that the words
-were entirely indistinguishable and could not be followed on account of
-the genius' fashion of singing them.
-</p>
-<p>
-By express, floral offerings came from as far away as Cleveland, Ohio, and
-New Orleans, Louisiana. One creation, sent on from a far distance, which
-displayed a stuffed white dove hovering, with the aid of wires, in the arc
-of a green trellis above a bank of white tuberoses, attracted much
-favourable comment. A subdued murmur of admiration, travelling onward from
-pew to pew, followed after it as the design was borne up the centre aisle
-to the chancel rail.
-</p>
-<p>
-As for broken columns and flower pillows with appropriately regretful
-remarks let into them in purple immortelle letterings, and gates ajar—why,
-they were evident in a profusion almost past individual recording.
-</p>
-<p>
-When the officiating minister, reading the burial service, got as far as
-“Dust to dust,” Ashby Corwin, who sat at the back of the church, bent over
-and whispered in the ear of his nearest neighbour: “Talk about your ruling
-passions! If that's not old Uncle Sime all over—still grabbing for
-the dust!” As a rule, repetition of this sally about town was greeted with
-the deep hush of silent reproof. Our dead money-monarch's memory was
-draped with the sanctity of wealth. Besides, Ash Corwin, as many promptly
-took pains to point out, was a person of no consequence whatsoever,
-financial or otherwise. Mrs. Whitridge's viewpoint, as voiced by her in
-the months that followed, was the commoner one. This is Mrs. Whitridge
-speaking:
-</p>
-<p>
-“I've been going to funerals steady ever since I was a child, I presume
-I've helped comfort more berefts by my presence and seen more dear
-departeds fittin'ly laid away than any person in this whole city. But if
-you're asking me, I must say Mr. Leatheritt's was the most fashionable
-funeral I ever saw, or ever hope to see. Everything that lavishness could
-do was done there, and all in such lovely taste, too! Why, it had style
-written all over it, especially the internment.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Oh, we've had funerals and funerals down our way. But the funeral that
-took place on an October day that I have in mind still will be talked
-about long after Banker Leatheritt and the estate he reluctantly left
-behind him are but dim recollections. It came as a surprise to most
-people, for in the daily papers of that morning no customary
-black-bordered announcement had appeared. Others had heard of it by word
-of mouth. In dubious quarters, and in some quarters not quite so dubious,
-the news had travelled, although details in advance of the event were only
-to be guessed at. Anyhow, the reading and talking public knew this much:
-That a girl, calling herself Viola St. Claire and aged nineteen, had died.
-It was an accepted fact, naturally, that even the likes of her must be
-laid away after some fashion or other. If she were put under ground by
-stealth, clandestinely as it were, so much the better for the atmosphere
-of civic morality. That I am sure would have been disclosed as the opinion
-of a majority, had there been inquiry among those who were presumed to
-have and who admitted they had the best interests of the community at
-heart.
-</p>
-<p>
-So you see a great many people were entirely unprepared against the coming
-of the pitiably short procession that at eleven o'clock, or thereabout,
-turned out of the little street running down back of the freight depot
-into Franklin Street, which was one of our main thoroughfares. First came
-the hearse, drawn by M. Jansen's pair of dappled white horses and driven
-by M. Jansen himself, he wearing his official high hat and the span having
-black plumes in their head stalls, thus betokening a burial ceremony of
-the top cost. Likewise the hearse was M. Jansen's best hearse—not
-his third best, nor yet his second best, but the splendid crystal-walled
-one that he ordered in the Eastern market after the relict of Banker
-Leatheritt settled the bill.
-</p>
-<p>
-The coffin, showing through the glass sides, was of white cloth and it
-looked very small, almost like a coffin for a child. However, it may have
-looked so because there was little of its shape to be seen. It was covered
-and piled and banked up with flowers, and these flowers, strange to say,
-were not done into shapes of gates aswing; nor into shafts with their tops
-gone; nor into flat, stiff pillows of waxy-white tuberoses, pale and cold
-as the faces of the dead. These were such flowers as, in our kindly
-climate, grew out of doors until well on into November: late roses and
-early chrysanthemums, marigolds and gladioluses, and such. They lay there
-loosely, with their stems upon them, just as Mrs. Weeks had sheared them,
-denuding every plant and shrub and bush that grew in her garden, so a girl
-whom Mrs. Weeks had never seen might go to her grave with an abundance of
-the blossoms she had coveted about her.
-</p>
-<p>
-Behind the hearse came a closed coach. We used to call them coaches when
-they figured in funerals, carriages when used for lodge turnouts, and
-plain hacks when they met the trains and boats. In the coach rode four
-women. The world at large had a way of calling them painted women; but
-this day their faces were not painted nor were they garishly clad. For the
-time they were merely women—neither painted women nor fallen women—but
-just women.
-</p>
-<p>
-And that was nearly all, but not quite. At one side of the hearse,
-opposite the slowly turning front wheels, trudged Judge Priest, carrying
-in the crook of one bent arm a book. It wouldn't be a law book, for they
-commonly are large books, bound in buff leather, and this book was small
-and flat and black in colour. On the other side of the hearse, with head
-very erect and eyes fixed straight ahead and Sunday's best coat buttoned
-tightly about his sparse frame, walked another old man, Doctor Lake.
-</p>
-<p>
-And that was all. At least that was all at first. But as the procession—if
-you could call it that—swung into Franklin Street it passed by The
-Blue Jug Saloon and Short Order Restaurant. In the doorway here lounged
-Perry Broadus, who drank. The night before had been a hard night upon
-Perry Broadus, whose nights always were hard, and it promised to be a hard
-day. He shivered at the touch of the clear, crisp air upon his flushed
-cheek and slanted for support against a handy doorpost of the Blue Jug.
-The hearse turned the corner, and he stared at it a moment and understood.
-He straightened his slouched shoulders, and the fog left his eyes and the
-fumes of staling alcohol quit his brain. He pulled off his hat, twisted
-his wreck of a necktie straight with a hand that shook and, cold sober, he
-ran out and caught step behind Judge Priest. Referring to pallbearers,
-Judge Priest had said the Lord would provide. But Perry Broadus provided
-himself.
-</p>
-<p>
-I forget now who the next volunteer was, but I think possibly it was
-Sergeant Jimmy Bagby. Without waiting to analyse the emotions that
-possessed him in the first instant of realisation, the sergeant went
-hurrying into the road to fall in, and never thereafter had cause to rue
-his impulse, his one regret being that he had no warning, else he would
-have slipped on his old, grey uniform coat that he reserved for high
-occasions. I know that Mr. Napoleon B. Crump, who was active in church and
-charities, broke away from two ladies who were discussing parish affairs
-with him upon the sidewalk in front of his wholesale grocery, and with
-never a word of apology to them slipped into line, with Doctor Lake for
-his file leader. A moment later, hearing footfalls at his back, Mr. Crump
-looked over his shoulder. Beck Giltner, a man whom Mr. Crump had twice
-tried to have driven out of town and whom he yet hoped to see driven out
-of town, was following, two paces behind him.
-</p>
-<p>
-I know that Mr. Joe Plumm came, shirtsleeved, out of his cooper shop and
-sought a place with the others. I know that Major Fair-leigh, who had been
-standing idly at the front window of his law office, emerged therefrom in
-such haste he forgot to bring his hat with him. Almost immediately the
-Major became aware that he was sandwiched in between the fat chief of the
-paid fire department and worthless Tip Murphy, who hadn't been out of the
-penitentiary a month. I know that old Peter J. Galloway, the lame Irish
-blacksmith, wore his leather apron as he limped along, bobbing up on his
-good leg and down on his short bent one.
-</p>
-<p>
-I know that Mr. Herman Felsburg brought with him four of the clerks of
-Felsburg Brothers' Oak Hall Clothing Emporium. One of them left a customer
-behind, too, or possibly the customer also came. On second thought, I
-believe he did. I know that some men stood along the curbstones and stared
-and that other men, having first bared their heads, broke away to tail in
-at the end of the doubled lines of marching figures. And I know that of
-those who did this there were more than of those who merely stood and
-stared. The padding of shoe soles upon the gravel of the street became a
-steadily increasing, steadily rising thump-thump-thump; the rhythm of it
-rose above the creak and the clatter of the hearse wheels and the hoofs of
-the horses.
-</p>
-<p>
-Lengthened and strengthened every few feet and every few yards by the
-addition of new recruits, the procession kept on. It trailed past shops
-and stores and jobbers' houses. It travelled by the Y. M. C. A. and by
-Fraternity Hall. It threaded its way between rows of residences. It must
-have been two hundred strong when the hearse horses came abreast of that
-stately new edifice, with its fine memorial windows and its tall twin
-spires, which the darkies called the Big Rock Church. They didn't stop
-here though. Neither did they stop at the old ivy-covered' church farther
-along nor at the little red-brick church in the middle of the next block.
-</p>
-<p>
-The procession kept on. Growing and still growing, it kept on. By now you
-might have counted in its ranks fit representatives of every grade and
-class, every cult and every creed to be found in the male population of
-our town. Old men and young men marched; bachelors and heads of families;
-rich men and poor; men who made public sentiment and men who defied it;
-strict churchgoers and avowed sceptics; men called good and men called
-bad. You might have ticked off almost any kind of man in that line.
-Possibly the Pharisees were missing and the Scribes were served only in
-the person of the editor of the <i>Daily Evening News</i>, who appeared
-well up toward the front of one of the files, with a forgotten cedar lead
-pencil riding in the crotch of his right ear. But assuredly the Publican
-was there and the Sinner.
-</p>
-<p>
-Heralded by the sound of its own thumping tread and leaving in its wake a
-stupefaction of astonishment, the procession kept straight on down
-Franklin Street, through the clear October sunshine and under the sentinel
-maples, which sifted down gentle showers of red and yellow leaves upon it.
-It kept on until it reached the very foot of the street. There it swung
-off at right angles into a dingy, ill-kempt little street that coursed
-crookedly along the water front, with poor houses rising upon one side and
-the raw mud banks of the river falling steeply away upon the other.
-</p>
-<p>
-It followed this street until the head of it came opposite a little squat
-box-and-barn of a structure, built out of up-and-down planking; unpainted,
-too, with a slatted belfry, like an overgrown chicken coop, perched midway
-of the peak of its steeply pitched tin roof. Now this structure, as all
-knew who remembered the history of contemporary litigation as recorded in
-the local prints, was the True Believers' Afro-American Church of Zion,
-sometimes termed in derision Possum Trot, being until recently the place
-of worship of that newest and most turbulent of local negro sects, but now
-closed on an injunction secured by one of the warring factions within its
-membership and temporarily lodged in the custody of the circuit court and
-in the hands of that court's servant, the high sheriff, pending ultimate
-determination of the issue by his honour, the circuit judge. Technically
-it was still closed; legally and officially still in the firm grasp of
-Sheriff Giles Birdsong. Actually and physically it was at this moment open—wide
-open. The double doors were drawn back, the windows shone clean, and at
-the threshold of the swept and garnished interior stood Judge Priest's
-Jeff, with his broom in his hand and his mop and bucket at his side. Jeff
-had concluded his share of the labours barely in time.
-</p>
-<p>
-As M. Jansen steered his dappled span close up alongside the pavement and
-brought them to a standstill, Judge Priest looked back and with what he
-saw was well content. He knew that morbid curiosity might account for the
-presence of some among this multitude who had come following after him,
-but not for all, and perhaps not for very many. He nodded to himself with
-the air of one who is amply satisfied by the results of an accomplished
-experiment.
-</p>
-<p>
-For the bearers of the dead he selected offhand the eight men who had
-marched nearest to him. As they lifted the coffin out from the hearse it
-befell that our most honoured physician should have for his opposite our
-most consistent drunk-ard, and that Mr. Crump, who walked in straight and
-narrow paths, should rub elbows with Beck Giltner, whom upon any day in
-the year, save only this day, Mr. Crump would have rejoiced to see harried
-with hounds beyond the corporate limits.
-</p>
-<p>
-Up the creaking steps and in between the lolling door-halves the chosen
-eight bore the dead girl, and right reverently they rested their burden on
-board trestles at the foot of the little box-pulpit, where shafts of
-sunshine, filtering through one of the small side windows, stencilled a
-checkered pattern of golden squares upon the white velvet box with its
-silver handles and its silver name plate. Behind the eight came others,
-bringing the flowers. It must have been years, I imagine, since the soiled
-hands of some of these had touched such gracious things as flowers, yet it
-was to transpire that none among them needed the help of any defter
-fingers. Upon the coffin and alongside it they laid down their arm loads,
-so that once more the narrow white box was almost covered under bloom and
-leaf; and then the yellow pencillings of sunlight made greater glory there
-than ever.
-</p>
-<p>
-When the crowd was in and seated—all of it that could get in and get
-seated—a tall, white-haired woman in a plain black frock came
-silently and swiftly through a door at the back and sat herself down upon
-a red plush stool before a golden-oak melodeon. Stool and melodeon being
-both the property of the fractious True Believers, neglect and poor usage
-had wrought most grievously with the two of them. The stool stood shakily
-upon its infirm legs and within the melodeon the works were skewed and
-jangled. But Mrs. Matilda Weeks' finger ends fell with such sanctifying
-gentleness upon the warped keys, and as she sang her sweet soprano rose so
-clearly and yet so softly, filling this place whose walls so often had
-resounded to the lusty hallelujahs of shouting black converts, that to
-those who listened now it seemed almost as though a Saint Cecelia had
-descended from on high to make this music. Mrs. Weeks sang a song that she
-had sung many a time before—for ailing paupers at the almshouse, for
-prisoners at the county jail, for the motley congregations that flocked to
-Sunday afternoon services in the little mission at the old Acme rink. And
-the name of the song was Rock of Ages.
-</p>
-<p>
-She finished singing. Judge Priest got up from a front pew where he had
-been sitting and went and stood alongside the flower-piled coffin, with
-his back to the little yellow-pine pulpit and his prayer book in his
-hands, a homely, ungraceful figure, facing an assemblage that packed the
-darky meeting house until it could hold no more. In sight there were just
-five women: the good woman at the melodeon and four other women, dwellers
-beneath a sinful roof, who sat together upon what the pastor of the True
-Believers would have called the mourners' bench. And all the rest were
-men. Men sat, row on row, in the pews; men stood in the single narrow
-aisle and against the walls round three sides of the building; and men
-appeared at the doorway and on beyond the doorway, upon the porch and the
-steps.
-</p>
-<p>
-I deem it to have been characteristic of the old judge that he made no
-explanation for his presence before them and no apology for his assumption
-of a role so unusual. He opened his black-bound volume at a place where
-his plump forefinger had been thrust between the leaves to mark the place
-for him, and in his high, thin voice he read through the service for the
-dead, with its promise of the divine forgiveness. When he had reached the
-end of it he put the book aside, and spoke to them in the fair and
-grammatical English that usually he reserved for his utterances from the
-bench in open court:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Our sister who lies here asked with almost her last conscious breath that
-at her funeral a sermon should be preached. Upon me, who never before
-attempted such an undertaking, devolves the privilege of speaking a few
-words above her. I had thought to take for my text the words: 'He that is
-without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.'
-</p>
-<p>
-“But I have changed my mind. I changed it only a little while ago. For I
-recalled that once on a time the Master said: 'Suffer little children to
-come unto Me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of Heaven.'
-And I believe, in the scheme of everlasting mercy and everlasting pity,
-that before the eyes of our common Creator we are all of us as little
-children whose feet stumble in the dark. So I shall take that saying of
-the Saviour for my text.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Perhaps it would be unjust to those whose business is the preaching of
-sermons to call this a sermon. I, for one, never heard any other sermon in
-any other church that did not last longer than five minutes. And certainly
-Judge Priest, having made his beginning, did not speak for more than five
-minutes; the caressing fingers of the sunlight had not perceptibly shifted
-upon the flower-strewn coffin top when he finished what he had to say and
-stood with his head bowed. After that, except for a rustle of close-packed
-body and a clearing of men's huskened throats, there was silence for a
-little time.
-</p>
-<p>
-Then Judge Priest's eyes looked about him and three pews away he saw Ashby
-Corwin. It may have been he remembered that as a young man Ashby Corwin
-had been destined for holy orders until another thing—some said it
-was a woman and some said it was whisky, and some said it was first the
-woman and then the whisky—came into his life and wrecked it so that
-until the end of his days Ashby Corwin trod the rocky downhill road of the
-profligate and the waster. Or it may have been the look he read upon the
-face of the other that moved Judge Priest to say:
-</p>
-<p>
-“I will ask Mr. Corwin to pray.”
- </p>
-<p>
-At that Ashby Corwin stood up in his place and threw back his prematurely
-whitened head, and he lifted his face that was all scarified with the
-blighting flames of dissipation, and he shut his eyes that long since had
-wearied of looking upon a trivial world, and Ashby Corwin prayed. There
-are prayers that seem to circle round and round in futile rings, going
-nowhere; and then again there are prayers that are like sparks struck off
-from the wheels of the prophet's chariot of fire, coursing their way
-upward in spiritual splendour to blaze on the sills of the Judgment Seat.
-This prayer was one of those prayers.
-</p>
-<p>
-After that Judge Priest bowed his head again and spoke the benediction.
-</p>
-<p>
-It turns out that I was right a while back when I predicted this chapter
-of this book might end with Judge Priest sitting at his desk in his room
-at the old courthouse. On the morning of the day following the day of this
-funeral he sat there, putting the last words to his decision touching upon
-the merits of the existing controversy in the congregation of the True
-Believers' Afro-American Church of Zion. The door opened and in walked
-Beck Giltner, saloon keeper, sure-thing gambler, handy-man-with-a-gun,
-and, according to the language of a resolution unanimously adopted at a
-mass meeting of the Law and Order League, force-for-evil.
-</p>
-<p>
-Beck Giltner was dressed in his best. He wore his wide-brimmed, black soft
-hat, with its tall crown carefully dented in, north, east, south and west;
-his long black coat; his white turn-down collar; his white lawn tie; and
-in the bosom of his plaited shirt of fine white linen his big diamond pin,
-that was shaped like an inverted banjo. This was Beck Giltner's attire for
-the street and for occasions of ceremony. Indoors it was the same, except
-that sometimes he took the coat off and turned back his shirt cuffs.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Good mornin', Beck,” said the judge. “Well?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Judge Priest,” said Giltner, “as a rule I don't come to this courthouse
-except when I have to come. But to-day I've come to tell you something.
-You made a mistake yesterday!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“A mistake, suh?” The judge's tone was sharp and quick.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes, suh, that's what you did,” returned the tall gambler. “I don't mean
-in regards to that funeral you held for that dead girl. You probably don't
-care what I think one way or the other, but I want to tell you I was
-strong for that, all the way through. But you made a mistake just the
-same, Judge; you didn't take up a collection.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It had been a good many years since I was inside of a church, until I
-walked with you and the others to that little nigger meetin'-house
-yesterday—forty-odd years I reckon; not since I was a kid, anyway.
-But to the best of my early recollections they always took a collection
-for something or other every time I did go to church. And yesterday you
-overlooked that part altogether.
-</p>
-<p>
-“So last night I took it on myself to get up a collection for you. I
-started it with a bill or so off my own roll. Then I passed the hat round
-at several places where you wouldn't scarcely care to go yourself. And I
-didn't run across a single fellow that failed to contribute. Some of 'em
-don't move in the best society, and there's some more of 'em that you'd
-only know of by reputation. But every last one of 'em put in something.
-There was one man that didn't have only seven cents to his name—he
-put that in. So here it is—four hundred and seventy-five dollars and
-forty-two cents, accordin' to my count.”
- </p>
-<p>
-From one pocket he fetched forth a rumpled packet of paper money and from
-the other a small cloth sack, which gave off metallic clinking sounds. He
-put them down together on the desk in front of Judge Priest.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I appreciate this, ef I am right in my assumption of the motives which
-actuated you and the purposes to which you natchally assumed this here
-money would be Applied,” said Judge Priest as the other man waited for his
-response. “But, son, I can't take your money. It ain't needed. Why, I
-wouldn't know whut to do with it. There ain't no out-standin' bills
-connected with that there funeral.
-</p>
-<p>
-“All the expense entailed was met—privately. So you see—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Wait just a minute before you say no!” interrupted Giltner. “Here's my
-idea and it's the idea of all the others that contributed: We-all want you
-to take this money and keep it—keep it in a safe, or in your pocket,
-or in the bank to your credit, or anywheres you please, but just keep it.
-And if any girl that's gone wrong should die and not have any friends to
-help bury her, they can come to you and get the cash out of this fund to
-pay for puttin' her away. And if any other girl should want to go back to
-her people and start in all over again and try to lead a better life, why
-you can advance her the railroad fare out of that money too. You see,
-Judge, we are aimin' to make a kind of a trust fund out of it, with you as
-the trustee. And when the four seventy-five forty-two is all used up, if
-you'll just let me know I'll guarantee to rustle up a fresh bank roll so
-you'll always have enough on hand to meet the demands. Now then, Judge,
-will you take it?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest took it. He stretched out and scooped in currency and coin
-sack, using therefor his left hand only. The right was engaged in reaching
-for Beck Giltner's right hand, the purpose being to shake it.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-II. A BLENDING OF THE PARABLES
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>EARLY every week—weather permitting—the old judge went to
-dinner somewhere. To a considerable extent he kept up his political fences
-going to dinners. Usually it was of a Sunday that he went.
-</p>
-<p>
-By ten o'clock almost any fair Sunday morning—spring, summer or
-early fall—Judge Priest's Jeff would have the venerable side-bar
-buggy washed down, and would be leading forth from her stall the ancient
-white lady-sheep, with the unmowed fetlocks and the intermittent mane,
-which the judge, from a spirit of prideful affection and in the face of
-all visual testimony to the contrary, persisted in regarding as an
-authentic member of the equine kingdom.
-</p>
-<p>
-Presently, in their proper combination and alignment, the trio would be
-stationed at the front gate, thus: Jeff in front, bracing the forward
-section of the mare-creature; and the buggy behind, its shafts performing
-a similar office for the other end of this unique quadruped. Down the
-gravelled walk that led from the house, under the water maples and
-silver-leaf poplars, which arched over to make a shady green tunnel of it,
-the judge would come, immaculate but rumply in white linens. The judge's
-linens had a way of getting themselves all rumpled even before he put them
-on. You might say they were born rumpled.
-</p>
-<p>
-Beholding his waddlesome approach out of the tail of her eye, the white
-animal would whinny a dignified and conservative welcome. She knew her
-owner almost as well as he knew her. Then, while Jeff held her head—that
-is to say, held it up—the old man would heave his frame ponderously
-in and upward between the dished wheels and settle back into the deep nest
-of the buggy, with a wheeze to which the agonised rear springs wheezed
-back an anthem like refrain.
-</p>
-<p>
-“All right, Jeff!” the judge would say, bestowing his cotton umbrella and
-his palm-leaf fan in their proper places, and working a pair of wrinkled
-buckskin gloves on over his chubby hands. “I won't be back, I reckin, till
-goin' on six o'clock this evenin', and I probably won't want nothin' then
-fur supper except a cold snack. So if you and Aunt Dilsey both put out
-from the house fur the day be shore to leave the front-door key under the
-front-door mat, where I kin find it in case I should git back sooner'n I
-expect. And you be here in due time yourse'f, to unhitch. Hear me, boy?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yas, suh,” Jeff would respond. “I hears you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“All right, then!” his employer would command as he gathered up the lines.
-“Let loose of Mittie May.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Conforming with the accepted ritual of the occasion, Jeff would let loose
-of Mittie May and step ceremoniously yet briskly aside, as though fearing
-instant annihilation in the first resistless surge of a desperate,
-untamable beast. Judge Priest would slap the leathers down on Mittie May's
-fat back; and Mittie May, sensing the master touch on those reins, would
-gather her four shaggy legs together with apparent intent of bursting into
-a mad gallop, and then, ungathering them, step out in her characteristic
-gentle amble, a gait she never varied under any circumstances. Away they
-would go, then, with the dust splashing up from under Mittie May's flat
-and deliberative feet, and the loose rear curtain of the buggy flapping
-and slapping behind like a slatting sail.
-</p>
-<p>
-Jeff would stand there watching them until they had faded away in the
-deeper dust where Clay Street merged, without abrupt transition, into a
-winding country road; and, knowing the judge was definitely on his way,
-Jeff would be on his way, too, but in a different direction. Of his own
-volition Jeff never fared countryward on Sundays. Green fields and running
-brooks laid no spell of allurement on his nimble fancy. He infinitely
-preferred metropolitan haunts and pastimes—such, for instance, as
-promenades along the broken sidewalks of the Plunkett's Hill section and
-crap games behind the coloured undertaker's shop on Locust Street.
-</p>
-<p>
-The judge's way would be a pleasant way—a peaceful, easy way, marked
-only by small disputes at each crossroads junction, Mittie May desiring
-always to take the turn that would bring them back home by the shortest
-route, and the judge stubborn in his intention of pushing further on. The
-superior powers of human obstinacy having triumphed over four-legged
-instinct, they would proceed. Now they would clatter across a wooden
-bridge spanning a sluggish amber-coloured stream, where that impertinent
-bird, the kingfisher, cackled derisive imitations of the sound given off
-by the warped axles of the buggy, and the yonkerpins—which Yankees,
-in their ignorance, have called water lilies—spread their wide green
-pads and their white-and-yellow cusps of bloom on the face of the creek
-water.
-</p>
-<p>
-Now they would come to cornfields and tobacco patches that steamed in the
-sunshine, conceding the season to be summer; or else old, abandoned
-clearings, grown up rankly in shoe-make bushes and pawpaw and persimmon
-and sassafras. And the pungent scent of the wayside pennyroyal would rise
-like an incense, saluting their nostrils as they passed, and the grassy
-furrows of long-harvested grain crops were like the lines of graves on old
-battlegrounds.
-</p>
-<p>
-Now they would come into the deep woods; and here the sunlight sifted down
-through the tree tops, making cathedral aisles among the trunks and dim
-green cloisters of the thickets; and in small open spaces the yellowing
-double prongs of the mullein stalks stood up stiff and straightly like
-two-tined altar candles. Then out of the woods again and along a stretch
-of blinding hot road, with little grey lizards racing on the decayed fence
-rails as outriders, and maybe a pair of those old red-head peckerwoods
-flickering on from snag to snag just ahead, keeping company with the
-judge, but never quite permitting him to catch up with them.
-</p>
-<p>
-So, at length, after five miles, or maybe ten, he would come to his
-destination, which might be a red-brick house set among apple trees on a
-low hill, or a whitewashed double cabin of logs in a bare place down in
-the bottoms. Here, at their journey's end, they would halt, with Mittie
-May heaving her rotund sides in and out in creditable simulation of a
-thoroughbred finishing a hard race; and Judge Priest would poke his head
-out from under the buggy hood and utter the customary hail of “Hello the
-house!” At that, nine times out of ten—from under the house and from
-round behind it—would boil a black-and-tan ground swell of
-flap-eared, bugle-voiced hound dogs, all tearing for the gate, with every
-apparent intention of devouring horse and harness, buggy and driver,
-without a moment's delay. And behind them, in turn, a shirt-sleeved man
-would emerge from the shelter of the gallery and hurry down the path
-toward the fence, berating the belling pack at every step he took:
-</p>
-<p>
-“You Sounder, you Ring, you Queen—consam your mangy pelts! Go on
-back yonder where you belong! You Saucer—come on back here and
-behave yourse'f! I bet I take a chunk some of these days and knock your
-fool head off!”
- </p>
-<p>
-As the living wave of dogs parted before his advance and his threats, and
-broke up and turned about and vanished with protesting yelps, the
-shirt-sleeved one, recognising Mittie May and the shape of the buggy,
-would speak a greeting something after this fashion:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, suh—ef it ain't Jedge Priest! Jedge, suh, I certainly am
-proud to see you out this way. We was beginnin' to think you'd furgot us—we
-was, fur a fact!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Over his shoulder he would single out one of a cluster of children who
-magically appeared on the gallery steps, and bid Tennessee or Virgil or
-Dora-Virginia or Albert-Sidney, as the name of the chosen youngster might
-be, to run and tell their ma that Judge Priest had come to stay for
-dinner. For the judge never sent any advance notice of his intention to
-pay a Sunday visit; neither did he wait for a formal invitation. He just
-dropped in, being assured of a welcome under any rooftree, great or
-humble, in his entire judicial district.
-</p>
-<p>
-Shortly thereafter the judge, having been welcomed in due state, and
-provision made for Mittie May's stabling and sustenance, would be
-established on the gallery in the rocking-chair of honour, which was
-fetched out from the parlour for his better comfort. First, a brimming
-gourd of fresh spring water would be brought, that he might take the edge
-off his thirst and flush the dust out of his throat and moisten up his
-palate; and then would follow a certain elaborated rite in conjunction
-with sundry sprigs of young mint and some powdered sugar and outpourings
-of the red-brown contents of a wicker demijohn.
-</p>
-<p>
-Very possibly a barefooted and embarrassed namesake would be propelled
-forward, by parental direction, to shake hands with the guest; for, except
-old Doctor Saunders, Judge Priest had more children named for him than
-anybody in our county. And very probably there would come to his ears from
-somewhere rearward the frenzied clamour of a mighty barnyard commotion—squawkings
-and cacklings and flutterings——closely followed by the
-poignant wails of a pair of doomed pullets, which grew fainter and fainter
-as the captives were borne to the sacrificial block behind the woodpile—certain
-signs, all these, that if fried chicken had not been included in the scope
-and plan of Sunday dinner, fried chicken would now be, most assuredly.
-</p>
-<p>
-When dinner was over, small messengers would be sent up the road and down
-to spread the word; and various oldsters of the vicinity would leave their
-own places to foregather in the dooryard of the present host and pass the
-time of day with Judge Priest. Sooner or later, somehow, the talk would
-work backward to war times. Overhearing what passed to and fro, a stranger
-might have been pardoned for supposing that it was only the year before,
-or at most two years before, when the Yankees came through under Grant;
-while Forrest's Raid was spoken of as though it had taken place within the
-current month.
-</p>
-<p>
-Anchored among the ancients the old judge would sit, doing his share of
-the talking and more than his share of the listening; and late in the
-afternoon, when the official watermelon, all dripping and cool, had been
-brought forth from the springhouse, and the shadows were beginning to
-stretch themselves slantwise across the road, as though tired out
-completely by a hard day's work in the broiling sun, he and Mittie May
-would jog back toward town, meeting many an acquaintance on the road, but
-rarely passing one. And the upshot would be that at the next Democratic
-primary the opposing candidate for circuit judge—if there was any
-opposing candidate—got powerfully few votes out of that
-neighbourhood.
-</p>
-<p>
-Such Sunday excursions as these and such a Sunday dinner as this typical
-one formed a regular part of Judge Priest's weekly routine through at
-least nine months of the year. If unforeseen, events conspired to rob him
-of his trip to the country he felt the week had not rightly rounded itself
-out; but once a year he attended a dinner beside which all other dinner
-occasions were, in his estimation, as nothing at all. With regard to this
-particular affair, he used to say it took him a week to get primed and
-ready for it, one whole night to properly enjoy it, and another week to
-recover from the effects of it. I am speaking now of the anniversary
-banquet of the survivors of Company B—first and foremost of the home
-companies—which was and still is held always on a given date and at
-a given place, respectively, to wit: The evening of the twelfth of May and
-the dining room of the Richland House.
-</p>
-<p>
-Company B held the first of its annual dinners at the Richland House away
-back in '66. That time sixty and more men—young men, mostly, in
-their mid-twenties and their early thirties—sat down together to
-meat and drink, and no less a personage than General Grider presided—that
-same Meriwether Grider who, going out in the first year of the war as
-company commander, came back after the Surrender, bringing with him the
-skeleton remnants of a battered and a shattered brigade.
-</p>
-<p>
-General Meriwether Grider has been dead this many a year now. He gave his
-life for the women and the children when the <i>Belle of the Bends</i>
-burned up at Cottonwood Bar; and that horror befell so long ago that the
-present generation down our way knows it only as a thing of which those
-garrulous and tiresome creatures, the older inhabitants, are sometimes
-moved to speak. But the rules for the regulation and conduct of subsequent
-banquets which were adopted on that long-ago night, when the general sat
-at the head of the table, hold good, even though all else in our town has
-changed.
-</p>
-<p>
-Of the ardent and youthful sixty-odd who dined with him then, a fading and
-aging and sorely diminished handful is left. Some in the restless boom
-days of the eighties moved away to other and brisker communities, and some
-have marched down the long, lone road that leads to a far country. Yet it
-abides as a bylaw and a precedent that only orthodox members of the
-original company shall have covers and places provided for them when
-anniversary night rolls round. The Richland House—always—must
-be the place of dining; this, too, in spite of the fact that the Richland
-House has been gnawed by the tooth of time into a shabby old shell, hardly
-worthy to be named in the same printed page with the smart Hotel Moderne—strictly
-European plan; rates, three dollars a day and upward—which now
-figures as our leading hotel.
-</p>
-<p>
-Near the conclusion of the feast, when the cloth has been cleared of the
-dishes and only the glasses are left, the rolls called by the acting
-top-sergeant—cholera having taken off the real top-sergeant in '75.
-Those who are present answer for themselves, and for those who are absent
-some other voice answers. And then at the very last, after the
-story-telling is done, they all stand and drink to Company B—its
-men, its memories, its most honourable record, and its most honourable
-dead.
-</p>
-<p>
-They tell me that this last May just seven met on the evening of the
-twelfth to sit beneath the crossed battle-flags in the Richland House
-dining room, and that everything was over and done with long before eleven
-o'clock. But the annual dinner which I especially have in mind to describe
-here took place on a somewhat more remote twelfth of May, when Company B
-still might muster better than the strength of a corporal's guard. If I
-remember correctly, eighteen grizzled survivors were known to be alive
-that year.
-</p>
-<p>
-In saying that, though, I would not have you infer that there were no more
-than eighteen veterans in our town. Why, in those times there must have
-been two hundred easily. Gideon K. Irons Camp could turn out upward of a
-hundred members in good standing for any large public occasion; but you
-understand this was a dinner limited to Company B alone, which restriction
-barred out a lot of otherwise highly desirable individuals.
-</p>
-<p>
-It barred out Sergeant Jimmy Bagby, for the sergeant had served with
-King's Hellhounds; and Captain Shelby Woodward, who belonged to the Orphan
-Brigade, as you would have learned for yourself at first hand had you ever
-enjoyed as much as five minutes of uninterrupted conversation with the
-captain; and Mr. Wolfe Hawley, our leading grocer, who was a gunner in
-Lyon's Battery—and many another it barred out. Indeed, Father Minor
-got in only by the skin of his teeth. True enough he was a Company B man
-at the beginning; but he transferred early to another branch of the
-service and for most of the four years he rode with Morgan's men.
-</p>
-<p>
-The committee in charge looked for a full attendance. It was felt that
-this would be one of the most successful dinners of them all. Certainly it
-would be by long odds the best advertised. It would seem that the Sunday
-editor of the <i>Courier-Journal</i>, while digging through his exchanges,
-came on a preliminary announcement in the columns of the <i>Daily Evening
-News</i>, which was our home paper; and, sensing a feature story in it, he
-sent one of his young men down from Louisville to spend two days among us,
-compiling facts, names and photographs. The young man did a page spread in
-the Sunday <i>Courier-Journal,</i> thereby unconsciously enriching many
-family scrapbooks in our town.
-</p>
-<p>
-This was along toward the middle of April. Following it, one of the
-Eastern syndicates rewrote the piece and mailed it out to its constituent
-papers over the country. The Associated Press saw fit to notice it too;
-and after that the tale got into the boiler-plate shops—which means
-it got into practically all the smaller weeklies that use patent insides.
-It must have been a strictly non-newspaper-read-ing community of this
-nation which did not hear that spring about the group of old soldiers who
-for forty years without a break had held a dinner once a year with no
-outsiders present, and who were now, for the forty-first time, about to
-dine again.
-</p>
-<p>
-Considering this publicity and all, the committee naturally counted on a
-fairly complete turnout. To be sure, Magistrate Matt Dallam, out in the
-country, could not hope to be present except in the spirit, he having been
-bedridden for years. Garnett Hinton, the youngest enlisted member of
-Company B, was in feeble health away off yonder in the Panhandle of Texas.
-It was not reasonable to expect him to make the long trip back home. On
-the tenth Mr. Napoleon B. Crump was called to Birmingham, Alabama, where a
-ne'er-do-well son-in-law had entangled himself in legal difficulties,
-arising out of a transaction involving a dubious check, with a yet more
-dubious signature on it. He might get back in time—and then again he
-might not.
-</p>
-<p>
-On the other hand, Second Lieutenant Charley Garrett wrote up from his
-plantation down in Mississippi that he would attend if he had to walk—a
-mere pleasantry of speech, inasmuch as Lieutenant Garrett had money enough
-to charter for himself a whole railroad train should he feel so inclined.
-And, from his little farm in Mims County, Chickasaw Reeves sent word he
-would be there, too, no matter what happened. The boys could count on him,
-he promised.
-</p>
-<p>
-Tallying up twenty-four hours or so ahead of the big night, the
-arrangements committee, consisting of Doctor Lake, Professor Lycurgus
-Reese and Mr. Herman Felsburg, made certain of fifteen diners, and
-possibly sixteen, and gave orders accordingly to the proprietor of the
-Richland House; but Mr. Nap Crump was detained in Birmingham longer than
-he had expected, and Judge Priest received from Lieutenant Charley Garrett
-a telegram reading as follows:
-</p>
-<p>
-“May the Lord be with you!—because I can't. Rheumatism in that game
-leg of mine, —— —————it!”
- </p>
-<p>
-The excisions, it developed, were the work of the telegraph company.
-</p>
-<p>
-Then, right on top of this, another disappointment piled itself—I
-have reference now to the sudden and painful indisposition of Chickasaw
-Reeves. Looking remarkably hale and hearty, considering his sixty-eight
-years, Mr. Reeves arrived in due season on the eleventh, dressed fit to
-kill in his Sunday best and a turndown celluloid collar and a pair of new
-shoes of most amazing squeakiness. After visiting, in turn, a considerable
-number of old friends and sharing, with such as them as were not bigoted,
-the customary and appropriate libations, he dropped into Sherill's Bar at
-a late hour of the evening for a nightcap before retiring.
-</p>
-<p>
-At once his fancy was drawn to a milk punch, the same being a pleasant
-compound to which he had been introduced an hour or so earlier. This milk
-punch seemed to call for another, and that one for still another. As the
-first deep sip of number three creamily saluted his palate, Mr. Reeves'
-eyes, over the rim of the deep tumbler, fell on the free lunch displayed
-at the far end of the bar. He was moved to step down that way and
-investigate.
-</p>
-<p>
-The milk punches probably would not have mattered—or the cubes of
-brick cheese, or the young onions, or the pretzels, or the pickled beets
-and pigs' feet. Mr. Reeves' seasoned and dependable gastric processes were
-amply competent to triumph over any such commonplace combination of food
-and drink. Undoubtedly his undoing was directly attributable to a
-considerable number of little slickery fish, belonging, I believe, to the
-pilchard family—that is to say, they are pilchards while yet they do
-swim and disport themselves hither and yon in their native element; but
-when caught and brined and spiced and oiled, and put in cans for the
-export trade, they take on a different name and become, commercially
-speaking, something else.
-</p>
-<p>
-Mr. Reeves did not notice them at first. He had sampled one titbit and
-then another; finally his glance was arrested by a dish of these small,
-dainty appearing creatures. A tentative nibble at the lubricated tail of a
-sample specimen reassured him as to the gastronomic excellence of the
-novelty. He stayed right there until the dish was practically empty. Then,
-after one more milk punch, he bade the barkeeper good night and departed.
-</p>
-<p>
-Not until three o'clock the following afternoon was Mr. Reeves able to
-receive any callers—except only Doctor Lake, whose visits until that
-hour had been in a professional rather than in a social capacity. Judge
-Priest, coming by invitation of the sufferer, found Mr. Reeves' room at
-the hotel redolent with the atmospheres of bodily distress. On the bed of
-affliction by the window was stretched the form of Mr. Reeves. He was not
-exactly pale, but he was as pale as a person of Mr. Reeves' habit of life
-could be and still retain the breath of life.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, Chickasaw, old feller,” said Judge Priest, “how goes it? Feelin' a
-little bit easier than you was, ain't you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-The invalid groaned emptily before answering in wan and wasted-away tone.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Billy,” he said, “ef you could 'a' saw me 'long 'bout half past two this
-mornin', when she first come on me, you'd know better'n to ask sech a
-question as that. First, I wus skeered I wus goin' to die. And then after
-a spell I wus skeered I wusn't. I reckin there ain't nobody nowheres that
-ever had ez many diff'runt kinds of cramps ez me and lived to tell the
-tale.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That's too bad,” commiserated the judge. “Was it somethin' you et or
-somethin' you drunk?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I reckin it wus a kind of a mixture of both,” admitted Mr. Reeves.
-“Billy, did you ever make a habit of imbibin' these here milk punches?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, not lately,” said Judge Priest.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, suh,” stated Mr. Reeves, “you'd be surprised to know how tasty they
-kin make jest plain ordinary cow's milk ef they take and put some good red
-licker and a little sugar in it, and shake it all up together, and then
-sift a little nutmaig seasonin' onto it—you would so! But, after
-you've drunk maybe three-four, I claim you have to be sorter careful 'bout
-whut you put on top of 'em. I've found that much out.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I reckin it serves me right, though. A country-jake like me oughter know
-better'n to come up here out of the sticks and try to gormandise hisse'f
-on all these here fancy town vittles. It's all right, mebbe, fur you city
-folks; but my stomach ain't never been educated up to it. Hereafter I'm
-a-goin' to stick to hawg jowl and cawn pone, and things I know 'bout. You
-hear me—I'm done! I've been cured.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And specially I've been cured in reguards to these here little pizenous
-fishes that look somethin' like sardeens, and yit they ain't sardeens. I
-don't know what they call 'em by name; but it certainly oughter be ag'inst
-the law to leave 'em settin' round on a snack counter where folks kin git
-to 'em. Two or three of 'em would be dangerous, I claim—and I must
-'a' et purty nigh a whole school.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Again Mr. Reeves moaned reminiscently.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, from the way you feel now, does it look like you're goin' to be
-able to come to the blow-out to-night?” inquired Judge Priest. “That's the
-main point. The boys are all countin' on you, Chickasaw.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Billy,” bemoaned Mr. Reeves, “I hate it mightily; but even ef I wus able
-to git up—which I ain't—and git my clothes on and git down to
-the Richland House, I wouldn't be no credit to yore party. From the way I
-feel now, I don't never ag'in want to look vittles in the face so long ez
-I live. And, furthermore, ef they should happen to have a mess of them
-there little greasy minners on the table I know I'd be a disgrace to
-myse'f right then and there. No, Billy; I reckin I'd better stay right
-where I am.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Thus it came to pass that, when the members of Company B sat down together
-in the decorated dining room of the Richland House at eight o'clock that
-evening, the chair provided for Mr. Chickasaw Reeves made a gap in the
-line. Judge Priest was installed in the place of honour, where Lieutenant
-Garrett, by virtue of being ranking surviving officer, would have
-enthroned himself had it not been for that game leg of his. From his seat
-at the head, the judge glanced down the table and decided in his own mind
-that, despite absentees, everything was very much as it should be. At
-every plate was a little flag showing, on a red background, a blue St.
-Andrew's cross bearing thirteen stars. At every plate, also, was a tall
-and aromatic toddy. Cocktails figured not in the dinner plans of Company
-B; they never had and they never would.
-</p>
-<p>
-At the far end from him was old Press Harper. Once it had been Judge
-Priest's most painful duty to sentence Press Harper to serve two years at
-hard labour in the state prison. To be sure, circumstances, which have
-been detailed elsewhere, interfered to keep Press Harper from serving all
-or any part of his punishment; nevertheless, it was the judge who had
-sentenced him. Now, catching the judge's eye, old Press waved his arm at
-him in a proud and fond greeting.
-</p>
-<p>
-Father Minor beamingly faced Squire Futrell, whose Southern Methodism was
-of the most rigid and unbendable type. Professor Reese, principal of the
-graded school, touched elbows with Jake Smedley, colour bearer of the
-Camp, who just could make out to write his own name. Peter J. Galloway,
-the lame blacksmith, who most emphatically was Irish, had a caressing arm
-over the stooped shoulder of Mr. Herman Felsburg, who most emphatically
-was not. Doctor Lake, his own pet crony in a town where everybody, big and
-little, was his crony in some degree, sat one seat removed from the judge,
-with the empty chair of the bedfast Chickasaw Reeves in between them and
-so it went.
-</p>
-<p>
-Even in the matter of the waiters an ancient and a hallowed sentiment
-ruled. Behind Judge Priest, and swollen as with a dropsy by pomp of pride
-and vanity, stood Uncle Zach Mathews, a rosewood-coloured person, whose
-affection for the Cause that was lost had never been questioned—even
-though Uncle Zach, after confusing military experiences, emerged from the
-latter end of the conflict as cook for a mess of Union officers and now
-drew his regular quarterly pension from a generous Federal Government.
-</p>
-<p>
-Flanking Uncle Zach, both with napkins draped over their arms, both
-awaiting the word from him to bring on the first course, were posted—on
-the right, Tobe Emery, General Grider's one-time body servant; on the
-left, Uncle Ike Copeland, a fragile, venerable exhuman chattel, who might
-almost claim to have seen actual service for the Confederacy. No ordinary
-darkies might come to serve when Company B foregathered at the feast.
-</p>
-<p>
-Uncle Zach, with large authority, had given the opening order, and at the
-side tables a pleasing clatter of china had arisen, when Squire Futrell
-put down his glass and rose, with a startled look on his face.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Looky here, boys!” he exclaimed. “This won't never do! Did you fellers
-know there wus thirteen at the table?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Sure enough, there were!
-</p>
-<p>
-It has been claimed—perhaps not without colour of plausibility—that
-Southerners are more superstitious than Northerners. Assuredly the
-Southerners of a generation that is almost gone now uniformly nursed their
-private beliefs in charms, omens, spells, hoodoos and portents. As babies
-many of them were nursed, as boys all of them were played with, by members
-of the most superstitious race—next to actors—on the face of
-creation. An actor of Ethiopian descent should by rights be the most
-superstitious creature that breathes the air of this planet, and
-doubtlessly is.
-</p>
-<p>
-No one laughed at Squire Futrell's alarm over his discovery. Possibly
-excusing Father Minor, it is probable that all present shared it with him.
-As for Uncle Zach Mathews and his two assistants, they froze with horror
-where they had halted, their loaded trays poised on their arms. But they
-did not freeze absolutely solid—they quivered slightly.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Law-zee!” gasped Uncle Zach, with his eyeballs rolling. “Dinner can't go
-no fur'der twell we gits somebody else in or meks somebody leave and go
-'way—dat's sartain shore! Whee! We kin all thank Our Maker dat dey
-ain't been nary bite et yit.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Amen to dat, Brer Zach!” muttered Ike shakily; and dumbly Tobe Emery
-nodded, stricken beyond power of speech by the nearness of a barely
-averted catastrophe fraught with disaster, if not with death itself.
-</p>
-<p>
-Involuntarily Judge Priest had shoved his chair back; most of the others
-had done the same thing. He got on his feet with alacrity.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Boys,” he said, “the squire is right—there's thirteen of us. Now
-whut d'ye reckin we're goin' to do 'bout that?”
- </p>
-<p>
-The natural suggestion would be that they send at once for another person.
-Three or four offered it together, their voices rising in a babble. Names
-of individuals who would make congenial table mates were heard. Among
-others, Sergeant Jimmy Bagby was spoken of; likewise Colonel Cope and
-Captain Woodward. But Judge Priest shook his head.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I can't agree with you-all,” he set forth. “By the time we sent clean
-uptown and rousted one of them boys out, the vittles would all be cold.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, Billy,” demanded Doctor Lake, “what are you going to do, then? We
-can't go ahead this way, can we? Of course I don't believe in all this
-foolishness about signs myself; but”—he added—“but I must
-admit to a little personal prejudice against thirteen at the table.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Listen here, you boys!” said Judge Priest. “Ef we're jest, obliged and
-compelled to break a long-standin' rule of this command—and it looks
-to me like that's whut we've got to do—let's foller after a
-precedent that was laid down a mighty long time ago. You-all remember—don't
-you—how the Good Book tells about the Rich Man that give a feast
-oncet? And at the last minute the guests he'd invited didn't show up at
-all—none of 'em. So then he sent out into the highways and byways
-and scraped together some hongry strangers; and by all accounts they had a
-purty successful time of it there. When in doubt I hold it's a fairly safe
-plan to jest take a leaf out of them old Gospels and go by it. Let's send
-out right here in the neighbourhood and find somebody—no matter who
-'tis, so long as he's free, white and twenty-one—that looks like he
-could appreciate a meal of vittles, and present the compliments of Company
-B to him, and ast him will he come on in and jine with us.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Maybe it was the old judge's way of putting it, but the idea took
-unanimously. The manager of the Richland House, having been sent for,
-appeared in person almost immediately. To him the situation was outlined
-and the remedy for it that had been favoured.
-</p>
-<p>
-“By gum, gentlemen,” said their host, instantly inspired, “I believe I
-know where I can put my hand on the very candidate you're looking for.
-There's a kind of seedy-looking, lonely old fellow downstairs, from
-somewhere the other side of the Ohio River. He's been registered since
-yes'day morning; seems like to me his name is Watts—something like
-that, anyhow. He don't seem to have any friends or no business in
-particular; he's just kind of hanging round. And he knows about this
-dinner too. He was talking to me about it a while ago, just before supper—said
-he'd read about it in a newspaper up in his country. He even asked me what
-the names of some of you gentlemen were. If you think he'll do to fill in
-I'll go right down and get him. He was sitting by himself in a corner of
-the lobby not two minutes ago. I judge he's about the right age, too, if
-age is a consideration. He looks to be about the same age as most of you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-There was no need for Judge Priest to put the question to a vote. It
-carried, so to speak, by acclamation. Bearing a verbal commission heartily
-to speak for the entire assemblage, Manager Ritter hurried out and in less
-than no time was back again, escorting the person he had described. Judge
-Priest met them at the door and was there introduced to the stranger,
-whose rather reluctant hand he warmly shook.
-</p>
-<p>
-“He didn't want to come at first,” explained Mr. Ritter; “said he didn't
-belong up here with you-all; but when I told him the fix you was in he
-gave in and consented, and here he is.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You're mighty welcome, suh,” said Judge Priest, still holding the other
-man's hand. “And we're turribly obliged to you fur comin', and to Mr.
-Ritter fur astin' you to come.”
- </p>
-<p>
-With that, he drew their dragooned guest into the room and, standing
-beside him, made formal presentation to the expectant company.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Gentlemen of Company B, allow me to make you acquainted with Mr. Watts,
-of the State of Illinoy, who has done us the great honour of agreein' to
-make fourteen at the table, and to eat a bite with us at this here little
-dinner of ours.” A straggling outburst of greeting and approbation arose
-from twelve elderly throats. “Mr. Watts, suh, will you be so good as to
-take this cheer here, next to me?” resumed Judge Priest when the noise
-abated; and he completed the ceremonial by indicating the place of the
-absent Mr. Reeves.
-</p>
-<p>
-What the stranger saw as he came slowly forward—if, indeed, he was
-able to see anything with distinctness by reason of the evident confusion
-that covered him—was a double row of kindly, cordial, curious faces
-of old men, all staring at him. Before the battery of their eyes he bowed
-his acknowledgments, but did not speak them; still without speaking, he
-slipped into the seat which Tobe Emery sprang forward to draw clear of the
-table for his easier admission to the group. What the others saw was a
-tall, stooped, awkward man of, say, sixty-five, with sombre eyes, set deep
-in a whiskered face that had been burned a leathery red by wind and
-weather; a heavy-footed man, who wore a suit of store clothes—clothes
-of a homely cut and none too new, yet neat enough; such a man, one might
-guess at a glance, as would have little to say and would be chary about
-saying that little until sure of his footing and his audience. Judging by
-appearances and first impressions he did not promise to be what you might
-call exciting company, exactly; but he made fourteen at the table, and
-that was the main point, anyhow.
-</p>
-<p>
-Now the dinner got under way with a swing and a clatter. For all the
-stitches and tucks that time had taken in their leg muscles, the three old
-negroes flitted about like flickery black shadows, bringing food to all
-and toddies to several, and just plain ice water to at least three of
-their white friends. Even Kentuckians have been known to be advocates of
-temperance. To learn how true a statement this is you must read, not the
-comic weeklies, but the official returns of local-option elections. Above
-the medley of commingling voices, some cracked and jangled with age, some
-still full and sonorous, and one at least as thin and piercing as the
-bleat of a reed flute—that would be Judge Priest's voice, of course—sounded
-the rattling of dishes and glasses and plated silverware. Uncle Zach and
-his two aides may have been good waiters, but they were tolerably noisy
-ones.
-</p>
-<p>
-Through it all the extra guest sat very quietly, eating little and
-drinking nothing. Sitting alongside him, Doctor Lake noticed that he fed
-himself with his right hand only; his left hand stayed in his lap, being
-hidden from sight beneath the table. Naturally this set afoot a train of
-mild professional surmise in the old doctor's mind. The arm itself seemed
-sound enough; he vaguely wondered whether the Illinois man had a crippled
-hand or a deformed hand, or what. Judge Priest noticed it too, but
-subconsciously rather. At the beginning he tried to start a conversation
-with Watts, feeling it incumbent on him, as chief sponsor for the other's
-presence, to cure him of his embarrassment if he could, and to make him
-feel more at home there among them; but his well-meant words appeared to
-fall on barren soil. The stranger answered in mumbled monosyllables,
-without once looking Judge Priest straight in the face. He kept his head
-half averted—a posture the judge ascribed to diffidence; but it was
-evident he missed nothing at all of the talk that ran up and down the long
-table and back and forth across it. Under his bushy brows his eyes shifted
-from face to face as this man or that had his say.
-</p>
-<p>
-So presently the judge, feeling that he had complied with the requirements
-of hospitality, abandoned the effort to interest his silent neighbour, and
-very soon after forgot him altogether for the time being. Under the
-circumstances it was only to be expected of Judge Priest that he should
-forget incidental matters; for now, to all these lifelong friends of his,
-time was swinging backward on a greased hinge. The years that had lined
-these old faces and bent these old backs were dropping away; the memories
-of great and storied days were mounting to their brains like the fumes of
-strong wine, brightening their eyes and loosening their tongues.
-</p>
-<p>
-From their eager lips dropped names of small country churches, tiny
-backwoods villages of the Southwest, trivial streams and geographically
-inconsequential mountains—names that once meant nothing to the world
-at large, but which, by reason of Americans having fought Americans there
-and Americans having died by the hundreds and the thousands there, are now
-printed in the school histories and memorised by the school children—Island
-Number 10 and Shiloh; Peachtree Creek and Stone River; Kenesaw Mountain
-and Brice's Crossroads. They had been at these very places, or at most of
-them—these thirteen old men had. To them the names were more than
-names. Each one burned in their hearts as a living flame. All the talk,
-though, was not of battle and skirmish. It dealt with prisons, with
-hospitals, with camps and marches.
-</p>
-<p>
-“By George, boys, will you ever forget the day we marched out of this
-town?” It was Doctor Lake speaking, and his tone was high and exultant.
-“Flags flying everywhere and our sweethearts crying and cheering us
-through their tears! And the old town band up front playing Girl I Left
-Behind Me and Johnnie's Gone for a Soger! And we-all stepping along,
-feeling so high and mighty and stuck-up in our new uniforms! A little shy
-on tactics we were, and not enough muskets to go round; but all the boys
-wore new grey suits, I remember. Our mothers saw to that.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It was different, though, Lew, the day we came home again,” reminded some
-one else, speaking gently. “No flags flying then and nobody cheering, and
-no band to play! And half the women were in black—yes, more than
-half.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“An' dat's de Gawd's truth!” half-whispered black Tobe Emery, carried away
-for the moment.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well,” said Press Harper, “I know they run out of muskets 'fore they got
-round to me. I call to mind that I went off totin' an ole flintlock that
-my paw had with him down in Mexico when he wus campin' on ole Santy Anny's
-trail. And that wus all I did have in the way of weepins, 'cept fur a
-great big bowie knife that a blacksmith out at Massac made fur me out of a
-rasp-file. I wus mighty proud of that there bowie of mine till we got down
-yonder to Camp Boone and found a whole company, all with bigger knives
-than whut mine wus. Called themselves the Blood River Tigers, those boys
-did, 'cause they came frum up on Blood River, in Calloway.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Squire Futrell took the floor—or the table, rather—for a
-moment:
-</p>
-<p>
-“I recollec' one Calloway County feller down at Camp Boone, when we fust
-got there, that didn't even have a knife. He went round 'lowin' as how he
-wus goin' to pick him out a likely Yank the fust fight we got into, and
-lick him with his bare hands ef he stood still and fit, or knock him down
-with a rock ef he broke and run—and then strip him of his outfit.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Why, I place that feller, jest ez plain ez if he wus standin' here now,”
- declared Mr. Harper. “I remember him sayin' he could lick ary Yankee that
-ever lived with his bare hands.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I reckin mebbe he could, too—he wus plenty long enough,” said the
-squire with a chuckle; “but the main obstacle wus that the Yankees
-wouldn't fight with their bare hands. They jest would insist on usin'
-tools—the contrary rascals! Let's see, now, whut wus that Calloway
-County feller's name? You remember him, Herman, don't you? A tall,
-ganglin' jimpy jawed, loose-laiged feller he wus—built like one of
-these here old blue creek cranes.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Mr. Felsburg shook his head; but Press Harper broke in again:
-</p>
-<p>
-“I've got him! The boys called him Lengthy fur short; but his real name
-wus Washburn, same ez—”
- </p>
-<p>
-He stopped short off there; and, twisting his head away from the
-disapproving faces, which on the instant had been turned full on him from
-all along the table, he went through the motion of spitting, as though to
-rid his mouth of an unsavoury taste. A hot colour climbed to Peter J.
-Galloway's wrinkled cheeks and he growled under the overhang of his white
-moustache. Doctor Lake pursed up his lips, shaking his head slowly.
-</p>
-<p>
-There was one black spot, and just one, on the records of Company B. And,
-living though he might still be, or dead, as probably he was, the name of
-one man was taboo when his one-time companions broke bread at their
-anniversary dinner. Indeed, they went farther than that: neither there nor
-elsewhere did they speak by name of him who had been their shame and their
-disgrace. It was a rule. With them it was as though that man had never
-lived.
-</p>
-<p>
-Up to this point Mr. Herman Felsburg had had mighty little to say. For all
-he had lived three-fourths of his life in our town, his command of English
-remained faulty and broken, betraying by every other word his foreign
-birth; and his habit of mixing his metaphors was proverbial. He essayed
-few long speeches-before mixed audiences; but now he threw himself into
-the breach, seeking to bridge over the awkward pause.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Speaking of roll calls and things such as that,” began Mr. Felsburg,
-seeming to overlook the fact that until now no one had spoken of roll
-calls—“speaking of those kinds of things, maybe you will perhaps
-remember how it was along in the winter of '64, when practically we were
-out of everything—clothes and shoes and blankets and money—ach,
-yes; money especially!—and how the orderly sergeant had no book or
-papers whatsoever, and so he used to make his report in the morning on a
-clean shingle, with a piece of lead pencil not so gross as that.” He
-indicated a short and stubby finger end.
-</p>
-<p>
-“'Long 'bout then we could 'a' kept all the rations we drew on a clean
-shingle too—eh, Herman?” wheezed Judge Priest. “And the shingle
-wouldn't 'a' been loaded down at that! My, my! Ever' time I think of that
-winter of '64 I find myse'f gittin' hongry all over agin!” And the judge
-threw himself back in his chair and laughed his high, thin laugh.
-</p>
-<p>
-Then, noting the others had not yet rallied back again to the point where
-the flow of reminiscences had been checked by Press Harper's labial
-slip-up, he had an inspiration.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Speakin' of roll calls,” he said, unconsciously parroting Mr. Felsburg,
-“seems to me it's 'bout time we had ours. The vittles end of this here
-dinner 'pears to be 'bout over. Zach”—throwing the suggestion across
-his shoulder—“you and your pardners'd better be fetchin' on the
-coffee and the seegars, I reckin.” He faced front again, raising his
-voice: “Who's callin' the roll to-night?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I am,” answered Professor Reese; and at once he got on his feet, adjusted
-his spectacles just so, and drew from an inner breast pocket of his long
-frock coat a stained and frayed scroll, made of three sheets of tough
-parchment paper pasted end to end.
-</p>
-<p>
-He cleared his throat; and, as though the sound had been a command, his
-fellow members bent forward, with faces composed to earnestness. None
-observed how the stranger acted; indeed, he had been quite out of the
-picture and as good as forgotten for the better part of an hour. Certainly
-nobody was interested in him at this moment when there impended what, to
-that little group, was a profoundly solemn, highly sentimental thing.
-</p>
-<p>
-Again Professor Reese cleared his throat, then spoke the name that was
-written in faded letters at the top of the roll—the name of him who
-had been their first captain and, at the last, their brigade commander.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Died the death of a hero in an effort to save others at Cottonwood Bar,
-June 28, 1871,” said Judge Priest; and he saluted, with his finger against
-his forehead.
-</p>
-<p>
-One by one the old school-teacher called off the list of commissioned and
-noncommissioned officers. Squire Futrell, who had attained to the eminence
-of a second corporal's place, was the only one who answered for himself.
-For each of the others, including Lieutenant Garrett—he of the game
-leg and the plantation in Mississippi—somebody else answered, giving
-the manner and, if he remembered it, the date of that man's death. For,
-excepting Garrett, they were all dead.
-</p>
-<p>
-The professor descended to the roster of enlisted men:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Abner P. Ashbrook!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Died in Camp Chase as a prisoner of war.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“G. W. Ayres!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Killed at Baker's Creek.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“R. M. Bigger!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Moved to Missouri after the war, was elected state senator, and died in
-'89.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Reuben Brame!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Honourably discharged after being wounded at Corinth, and disappeared.
-Believed to be dead.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Robert Burnell!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Murdered by bushwhackers in East Tennessee on his way home after the
-Surrender.”
- </p>
-<p>
-So it went down the long column of names. They were names, many of them,
-which once stood for something in that community but which would have
-fallen with an unfamiliar sound upon the ears of the oncoming generation—old
-family names of the old town. But the old families had died out or had
-scattered, as is the way with old families, and the names were only
-pronounced when Company B met or when some idler, dawdling about the
-cemetery, deciphered the lichen-grown lines on gray and crumbly
-grave-stones. Only once in a while did a voice respond, “Here!” But always
-the “Here!” was spoken clearly and loudly and at that, the remaining
-twelve would hoist their voices in a small cheer.
-</p>
-<p>
-By common consent certain survivors spoke for certain departed members.
-For example, when the professor came to one name down among the L's, Peter
-J. Galloway, who was an incorruptible and unshakable Roman of the party of
-Jefferson and Jackson, blared out: “Turn't Republikin in '96, and by the
-same token died that same year!” And when he reached the name of Adolph
-Ohlmann it was Mr. Felsburg's place to tell of the honourable fate of his
-fellow Jew, who fell before Atlanta.
-</p>
-<p>
-The reader read on and on until his voice took on a huskened note. He had
-heard “Here!” for the thirteenth time; he had come to the very bottomest
-lines of his roster. He called one more name—Vilas, it was—and
-then he rolled up his parchment and put it away.
-</p>
-<p>
-“The records show that, first and last, Company B had one hundred and
-seventy-two members, all regularly sworn into the service of the
-Confederate States of America under our beloved President, Jefferson
-Davis,” stated Professor Reese sonorously. “Of those names, in accordance
-with the custom of this organisation, I have just called one hundred and
-seventy-one. The roll call of Company B, of the Old Regiment of mounted
-infantry serving under General Nathan Bedford Forrest, is completed for
-the current year.” And down he sat.
-</p>
-<p>
-As Judge Priest, with a little sigh, settled back in his chair, his glance
-fell on the face of the man next him. Perhaps the old judge's eyes were
-not as good as once they had been. Perhaps the light was faulty. At any
-rate, he interpreted the look that was on the other's face as a look of
-loneliness. Ordinarily the judge was a pretty good hand at reading faces
-too.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Looky here, boys!” he called out, with such emphasis as to centre general
-attention on the upper end of the table. “We oughter be 'shamed of
-ourselves—carryin' on this way 'mongst ourselves and plum'
-furgittin' we had an outsider with us ez a special guest. Our new friend
-here is 'bout the proper age to have seen service in the war his own se'f—mebbe
-he did see some. Of all the states that fought ag'inst us, none of 'em
-turned out better soldiers than old Illinoy did. If my guess is right I
-move we hear frum Mr. Watts, frum Illinoy, on some of his own wartime
-experiences.” His hand dropped, with a heartening thump, on the shoulder
-of the stranger. “Come on, colonel! We've had a word from ever'body
-exceptin' you. It's your turn—ain't it, boys?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Before his question might be answered, Watts had straightened to his feet.
-He stood rigidly, his hands driven wrist-deep into his coat pockets; his
-weather-beaten face set in heavy, hard lines; his deep eyes fixed on a
-spot in the blank wall above their heads.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You're right—I was a soldier in the war between the States,” he
-said in a thickened, quick voice, which trembled just a little; “but I
-didn't serve with the Illinois troops. I didn't move to Illinois until
-after the war. My regiment was as good a regiment, though, and as game a
-regiment, as fought in that war on either side.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Some six or eight broke generously into a brisk patter of handclapping at
-this, and from the exuberant Mr. Galloway came:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Whirroo! That's right—stick up for yer own side always! Go on, me
-boy; go on!”
- </p>
-<p>
-The urging was unnecessary. Watts was going on as though he had not been
-interrupted, as though he had not heard the friendly applause, as though
-his was a tale which stood in most urgent need of the telling:
-</p>
-<p>
-“I'm not saying much of my first year as a soldier. I wasn't satisfied—well,
-I wasn't happily placed; I'll put it that way. I had hopes at the
-beginning of being an officer; and when the company election was held I
-lost out. Possibly I was too ambitious for my own good. I came to know
-that I was not popular with the rest of the company. My captain didn't
-like me, either, I thought. Maybe I was morbid; maybe I was homesick. I
-know I was disappointed. You men have all been soldiers—you know how
-those things go. I did my duty after a fashion—I didn't skulk or
-hang back from danger—but I didn't do it cheerfully. I moped and I
-suppose I complained a lot.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, finally I left that company and that regiment. I just quit. I
-didn't quit under fire; but I quit—in the night. I think I must have
-been half crazy; I'd been brooding too much. In a day or two I realised
-that I couldn't go back home—which was where I had started for—and
-I wouldn't go over to the enemy. Badly as I had behaved, the idea of
-playing the outright traitor never entered my mind. I want you to know
-that. So I thought the thing over for a day or two. I had time for
-thinking it over—alone there in that swamp where I was hiding. I've
-never spoken of that shameful thing in my life since then—not until
-to-night. I tried not to think of it—but I always have—every
-day.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, I came to a decision at last. I closed the book on my old self; I
-wiped out the past. I changed my name and made up a story to account for
-myself; but I thank God I didn't change flags and I didn't change sides. I
-was wearing that new name of mine when I came out of those woods, and
-under it I enlisted in a regiment that had been recruited in a state two
-hundred miles away from my own state. I served with it until the end of
-the war—as a private in the ranks.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I'm not ashamed of the part I played those last three years. I'm proud of
-it! As God is my judge, I did my whole duty then. I was commended in
-general orders once; my name was mentioned in despatches to the War
-Department once. That time I was offered a commission; but I didn't take
-it. I bear in my body the marks of three wounds. I've got a chunk of lead
-as big as your thumb in my shoulder. There's a little scar up here in my
-scalp, under the hair, where a splinter from a shell gashed me. One of my
-legs is a little bit shorter than the other. In the very last fight I was
-in a spent cannon ball came along and broke both the bones in that leg.
-I've got papers to prove that from '62 to '65 I did my best for my cause
-and my country. I've got them here with me now—I carry them with me
-in the daytime and I sleep at night with them under my pillow.”
- </p>
-<p>
-With his right hand he fumbled in his breast pocket and brought out two
-time-yellowed slips of paper and held them high aloft, clenched and
-crumpled up in a quivering fist.
-</p>
-<p>
-“One of these papers is my honourable discharge. The other is a letter
-that the old colonel of my regiment wrote to me with his own hand two
-months before he died.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He halted and his eyes, burning like red coals under the thick brows,
-ranged the faces that looked up into his. His own face worked. When he
-spoke again he spoke as a prisoner at the bar might speak, making a last
-desperate appeal to the jury trying him for his life:
-</p>
-<p>
-“You men have all been soldiers. I ask you this now, as a soldier standing
-among soldiers—I ask you if my record of three years of hard service
-and hard fighting can square me up for the one slip I made when I was
-hardly more than a boy in years? I ask you that?”
- </p>
-<p>
-With one voice, then, the jury answered. Its verdict was acquittal—and
-not alone acquittal but vindication. Had you been listening outside you
-would have sworn that fifty men and not thirteen were yelling at the tops
-of their lungs, beating on the table with all the might in their arms.
-</p>
-<p>
-The old man stood for a minute longer. Then suddenly all the rigidity
-seemed to go out of him. He fell into his chair and put his face in his
-two cupped hands. The papers he had brandished over his head slipped out
-of his fingers and dropped on the tablecloth. One of them—a flat,
-unfolded slip—settled just in front of Doctor Lake. Governed partly
-by an instinct operating automatically, partly to hide his own emotions,
-which had been roused to a considerable degree, Doctor Lake bent and
-spelled out the first few words. His head came up with a jerk of profound
-surprise and gratification.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Why, this is signed by John B. Gordon him-self!” he snorted. He twisted
-about, reaching out for Judge Priest. “Billy! Billy Priest! Why, look
-here! Why, this man's no Yankee! Not by a dam' sight he's not! Why, he
-served with a Georgia regiment! Why——”
- </p>
-<p>
-But Judge Priest never heard a word of what Doctor Lake was saying. His
-old blue eyes stared at the stranger's left hand. On the back of that
-hand, standing out upon the corded tendons and the wrinkled brown skin,
-blazed a red spot, shaped like a dumb-bell, a birthmark of most unusual
-pattern.
-</p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest stared and stared; and as he stared a memory that was nearly
-as old as he was crept out from beneath a neglected convolution in the
-back part of his brain, and grew and spread until it filled his amazed,
-startled, scarce-believing mind. So it was no wonder he did not hear
-Doctor Lake; no wonder he did not see black Tobe Emery stealing up behind
-him, with popped eyes likewise fixed on that red dumb-bell-shaped mark.
-</p>
-<p>
-No; Judge Priest did not hear a word. As Doctor Lake faced about the other
-way to spread his wonderful discovery down the table and across it, the
-judge bent forward and touched the fourteenth guest on the shoulder very
-gently.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Pardner,” he asked, apparently apropos of nothing that had happened since
-the dinner started—“Pardner, when was the first time you heard about
-this here meetin' of Company B—the first time?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Through the interlaced fingers of the other the answer came haltingly:
-</p>
-<p>
-“I read about it—in a Chicago Sunday paper—three weeks ago.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But you knew before that there was a Company B down here in this town?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Without raising his head or baring his face, the other nodded. Judge
-Priest overturned his coffee cup as he got to his feet, but took no heed
-of the resultant damage to the cloth on the table and the fronts of his
-white trouser legs.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Boys,” he cried out so shrilly, so eagerly, so joyously, that they all
-jumped, “when you foller after Holy Writ you can't never go fur wrong.
-You're liable to breed a miracle. A while ago we took a lesson from the
-Parable of the Rich Man that give a dinner; and—lo and behold!—another
-parable and a better parable—yes, the sweetest parable of 'em all—has
-come to pass and been repeated here 'mongst us without our ever knowin' it
-or even suspectin' it. The Prodigal Son didn't enjoy the advantage of
-havin' a Chicago Sunday paper to read, but in due season he came back home—that
-other Prodigal did; and it stands written in the text that he was
-furgiven, and that a feast was made fur him in the house of his fathers.”
- </p>
-<p>
-His tone changed to one of earnest demand: “Lycurgus Reese, finish the
-roll call of this company—finish it right now, this minute—the
-way it oughter be finished!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Why, Judge Priest,” said Professor Reese, still in the dark and filled
-with wonderment, “it is already finished!”
- </p>
-<p>
-As though angered almost beyond control, the judge snapped back:
-</p>
-<p>
-“It ain't finished, neither. It ain't been rightly finished from the very
-beginnin' of these dinners. It ain't finished till you call the very last
-name that's on that list.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But, Judge——”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But nothin'! You call that last name, Ly-curgus Reese; and you be
-almighty quick about it!”
- </p>
-<p>
-There was no need for the old professor, thus roughly bidden, to haul out
-his manuscript. He knew well enough the name, though wittingly it had not
-passed his lips for forty years or more. So he spoke it out:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Sylvester B. Washburn!”
- </p>
-<p>
-The man they had called Watts raised in his place and dropped his clenched
-hands to his sides, and threw off the stoop that was in his shoulders. He
-lifted his wetted eyes to the cracked, stained ceiling above. He peered
-past plaster and rafter and roof, and through a rift in the skies above he
-feasted his famished vision on a delectable land which others might not
-see. And then, beholding on his face that look of one who is confessed and
-shriven, purified and atoned for, the scales fell away from their own eyes
-and they marvelled—not that they knew him now, but that they had not
-known him before now. And for a moment or two there was not a sound to be
-heard.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Sylvester B. Washburn!” repeated Professor Reese.
-</p>
-<p>
-And the prodigal answered:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Here!”
- </p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-III. JUDGE PRIEST COMES BACK
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ROM time to time persons of an inquiring turn of mind have been moved
-audibly to speculate—I might even say to ponder—regarding the
-enigma underlying the continued presence in the halls of our National
-Congress of the Honourable Dabney Prentiss. All were as one in agreeing
-that he had a magnificent delivery, but in this same connection it has
-repeatedly been pointed out that he so rarely had anything to deliver.
-Some few among this puzzled contingent, knowing, as they did, the habits
-and customs of the people down in our country, could understand that in a
-corner of the land where the gift of tongue is still highly revered and
-the golden chimings of a full-jewelled throat are not yet entirely lost in
-the click of cash registers and the whir of looms, how the Honourable
-Dabney within his limitations might have been oratorically conspicuous and
-politically useful, not alone to himself but to others. But as a
-constructive statesman sent up to Washington, District of Columbia, and
-there engaged in shaping loose ends of legislation into the welded and the
-tempered law, they could not seem to see him at all. It was such a one, an
-editorial writer upon a metropolitan daily, who once referred to
-Representative Prentiss as The Human Voice. The title stuck, a fact
-patently testifying to its aptness. That which follows here in this
-chapter is an attempt to explain the mystery of this gentleman's elevation
-to the high places which he recently adorned.
-</p>
-<p>
-To go back to the very start of things we must first review briefly the
-case of old Mr. Lysander John Curd, even though he be but an incidental
-figure in the narrative. He was born to be incidental, I reckon, heredity,
-breeding and the chance of life all conspiring together to fit him for
-that inconsequential rôle. He was born to be a background. The one thing
-he ever did in all his span on earth to bring him for a moment into the
-front of the picture was that, having reached middle age, he took unto
-himself a young wife. But since he kept her only long enough to lose her,
-even this circumstance did not serve to focus the attention of the
-community upon his uncoloured personality for any considerable period of
-time.
-</p>
-<p>
-Considering him in all his aspects—as a volunteer soldier in the
-Great War, as a district schoolteacher, as a merchant in our town, as a
-bachelor of long standing, as a husband for a fleeting space, and as a
-grass widower for the rest of his days—I have gleaned that he never
-did anything ignoble or anything conspicuous. Indeed, I myself, who knew
-him as a half-grown boy may know a middle-aged man, find it hard after the
-lapse of years to describe him physically for you. I seem to recall that
-he was neither tall nor short, neither thick nor thin. He had the
-customary number of limbs and the customary number of features arranged in
-the customary way—I know that, of course. It strikes me that his
-eyes were mild and gentle, that he was, as the saying runs, soft-spoken
-and that his whiskers were straggly and thin, like young second growth in
-a new clearing; also that he wore his winter overcoat until the hot suns
-of springtime scorched it, and that he clung to his summer alpaca and his
-straw hat until the frosts of autumn came along and nipped them with the
-sweet-gum and the dogwood. That lets me out. Excusing these things, he
-abides merely as a blur in my memory.
-</p>
-<p>
-On a certain morning of a certain year, the month being April, Judge
-Priest sat at his desk in his chamber, so-called, on the right-hand side
-of the long hall in the old courthouse, as you came in from the Jefferson
-Street door. He was shoulders deep down in his big chair, with both his
-plump legs outstretched and one crossed over the other, and he was reading
-a paper-bound volume dealing in the main with certain inspiring episodes
-in the spectacular life of a Western person known as Trigger Sam. On his
-way downtown from home that morning he had stopped by Wilcox &
-Powell's bookstore and purchased this work at the price of five cents; it
-was the latest production of the facile pen of a popular and indefatigable
-author of an earlier day than this, the late Ned Buntline. In his hours of
-leisure and seclusion the judge dearly loved a good nickel library,
-especially one with a lot of shooting and some thrilling rescues in it.
-Now he was in the middle of one of the most exciting chapters when there
-came a mild rap at the outer door. Judge Priest slid the Trigger Sam book
-into a half-open drawer and called out:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Come right on in, whoever 'tis.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The door opened and old Mr. Lysander John Curd entered, in his overcoat,
-with his head upon his chest.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Good morning, Judge Priest,” he said in his gentle halting drawl; “could
-I speak with you in private a minute? It's sort of a personal matter and I
-wouldn't care to have anybody maybe overhearing.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You most certainly could,” said Judge Priest. He glanced through into the
-adjoining room at the back, where Circuit Clerk Milam and Sheriff Giles
-Birdsong, heads together, were busy over the clerical details of the
-forthcoming term of circuit court. Arising laboriously from his
-comfortable place he waddled across and kicked the open door between the
-two rooms shut with a thrust of a foot clad in a box-toed, low-quartered
-shoe. On his way back to his desk he brushed an accumulation of old papers
-out of a cane-bottomed chair. “Set down here, Lysandy,” he said in that
-high whiny voice of his, “and let's hear whut's on your mind. Nice
-weather, ain't it?”
- </p>
-<p>
-An eavesdropper trained, mayhap, in the psychology of tone and gesture
-might have divined from these small acts and this small utterance that
-Judge Priest had reasons for suspecting what was on his caller's mind; as
-though this visit was not entirely unexpected, even though he had had no
-warning of it. There was in the judge's words an intangible inflection of
-understanding, say, or sympathy; no, call it compassion—that would
-be nearer to it. The two old men—neither of them would ever see
-sixty-five again—lowered themselves into the two chairs and sat
-facing each other across the top of the judge's piled and dusty desk.
-Through his steel-rimmed glasses the judge fixed a pair of kindly, but
-none-the-less keen, blue eyes on Mr. Lysander Curd's sagged and slumped
-figure. There was despondency and there was embarrassment in all the
-drooping lines of that elderly frame. Judge Priest's lips drew up tightly,
-and unconsciously he nodded—the brief nod that a surgeon might
-employ on privately confirming a private diagnosis.
-</p>
-<p>
-The other did not detect these things—neither the puckering of the
-lips nor the small forward bend of the judge's head. His own chin was in
-his collar and his own averted eyes were on the floor. One of his hands—a
-gnarly, rather withered hand it must have been—reached forth
-absently and fumbled at a week-old copy of the <i>Daily Evening News</i>
-that rested upon a corner of the desk. The twining fingers tore a little
-strip loose from the margin of a page and rolled it up into a tiny wad.
-</p>
-<p>
-For perhaps half a minute there was nothing said. Then Judge Priest bent
-forward suddenly and touched the nearermost sleeve of Mr. Curd with a
-gentle little half-pat.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, Lysandy?” he prompted.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, Judge.” The words were the first the visitor had uttered since his
-opening speech, and they came from him reluctantly. “Well, sir, it would
-seem like I hardly know how to start. This is a mighty personal matter
-that I've come to see you in regards to—and it's just a little bit
-hard to speak about it even to somebody that I've known most of my life,
-same as I've always known you. But things in my home have finally come to
-a head, and before the issue reaches you in an official capacity as the
-judge on the bench I sort of felt like it might help some—might make
-the whole thing pass off easier for all concerned—if I could have a
-few words with you privately, as a friend and as a former comrade in arms
-on the field of battle.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, Lysandy, go ahead. I'm listenin',” stated Judge Priest, as the other
-halted.
-</p>
-<p>
-Old Mr. Curd raised his face and in his faded eyes there was at once a
-bewildered appeal and a fixed and definite resolution. He spoke on very
-slowly and carefully, choosing his words as he went, but without
-faltering:
-</p>
-<p>
-“I don't know as you know about it, Judge Priest—the chances are you
-naturally wouldn't—but in a domestic way things haven't been going
-very smoothly with me—with us, I should say—for quite a spell
-back. I reckon after all it's a mistake on the part of a man after he's
-reached middle age and got set in his ways to be taking a young wife, more
-especially if he can't take care of her in the way she's been used to, or
-anyhow in the way she'd like to be taken care of. I suppose it's only
-human nature for a young woman to hanker after considerable many things
-that a man like me can't always give her—jewelry and pretty things,
-and social life, and running round and seeing people, and such as that.
-And Luella—well, Luella really ain't much more than a girl herself
-yet, is she?”
- </p>
-<p>
-The question remained unanswered. It was plain, too, that Mr. Curd had
-expected no answer to it, for he went straight on:
-</p>
-<p>
-“So I feel as if the blame for what's happened is most of it mine. I
-reckon I was too old to be thinking about getting married in the first
-place. And I wasn't very well off then either—not well enough off to
-have the money I should've had if I expected to make Luella contented.
-Still, all that part of it's got nothing to do with the matter as it
-stands—I'm just telling it to you, Judge, as a friend.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I understand, Lysandy,” said Judge Priest almost in the tone which he
-might have used to an unhappy child. “This is all a strict confidence
-between us two and this is all the further it'll ever go, so fur ez I'm
-concerned, without you authorise me to speak of it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He waited for what would come next. It came in slow, steady sentences,
-with the regularity of a statement painfully rehearsed beforehand: “Judge
-Priest, I've never been a believer in divorce as a general thing. It
-seemed to me there was too much of that sort of thing going on round this
-country. That's always been my own private doctrine, more or less. But in
-my own case I've changed my mind. We've been talking it over back and
-forth and we've decided—Luella and me have—that under the
-circumstances a divorce is the best thing for both of us; in fact we've
-decided that it's the only thing. I want that Luella should be happy and I
-think maybe I'll feel easier in my own mind when it's all over and done
-with and settled up according to the law. I'm aiming to do what's best for
-both parties—and I want that Luella should be happy. I want that she
-should be free to live her own life in her own way without me hampering
-her. She's young and she's got her whole life before her—that's what
-I'm thinking of.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He paused and with his tongue he moistened his lips, which seemed dry.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I don't mind telling you I didn't feel this way about it first-off. It
-was a pretty tolerably hard jolt to me—the way the proposition first
-came up. I've spent a good many sleepless nights thinking it over. At
-least I couldn't sleep very much for thinking of it,” he amended with the
-literal impulse of a literal mind to state things exactly and without
-exaggeration. “And then finally I saw my way clear to come to this
-decision. And so—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Lysandy Curd,” broke in Judge Priest, “I don't aim to give you any
-advice. In the first place, you ain't asked fur it; and in the second
-place, even ef you had asked, I'd hesitate a monstrous long time before
-I'd undertake to advice any man about his own private family affairs. But
-I jest want to ask you one thing right here: It wasn't you, was it, that
-first proposed the idea of this here divorce?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, no, Judge, I don't believe 'twas,” confessed the old man whose
-misery-reddened eyes looked into Judge Priest's from across the littered
-desk. “I can't say as it was me that first suggested it. But that's
-neither here nor there. The point I'm trying to get at is just this:
-</p>
-<p>
-“The papers have all been drawn up and they'll be bringing them in here
-sometime to-day to be filed—the lawyers in the case will, Bigger
-& Quigley. Naturally, with me and Luella agreeing as to everything,
-there's not going to be any fight made in your court. And after it's all
-over I'm aiming to sell out my feed store—it seems like I haven't
-been able to make it pay these last few months, the same as it used to
-pay, and debts have sort of piled up on me some way. I reckon the fellow
-that said two could live as cheap as one didn't figure on one of them
-being a young woman—pretty herself and wanting pretty things to wear
-and have round the house. But I shouldn't say that—I've come to see
-how it's mainly my fault, and I'm figuring on how to spare Luella in every
-way that it's possible to spare her. So as I was saying, I'm figuring,
-when it's all over, on selling out my interests here, such as they are,
-and going back to live on that little farm I own out yonder in the Lone
-Elm district. It's got a mortgage on it that I put on it here some months
-back, but I judge I can lift that and get the place clear again, if I'm
-given a fair amount of time to do it in.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And now that everything's been made clear to you, I want to ask you,
-Judge, to do all in your power to make things as easy as you can for
-Luella. I'd a heap rather there wouldn't be any fuss made over this case
-in the newspapers. It's just a straight, simple divorce suit, and after
-all it's just between me and my present wife, and it's more our business
-than 'tis anybody else's. So, seeing as the case is not going to be
-defended, I'd take it as a mighty big favour on your part if you'd shove
-it up on the docket for the coming term of court, starting next Monday, so
-as we could get it done and over with just as soon as possible. That's my
-personal wish, and I know it's Luella's wish too. In fact she's right
-anxious on that particular point. And here's one more thing: I reckon that
-young Rawlings boy, that's taken a job reporting news items for the Daily
-Evening News, will be round here in the course of the day, won't he?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“He likely will,” said Judge Priest; “he comes every day—purty near
-it. Why?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well,” said Mr. Curd, “I don't know him myself except by sight, and I
-don't feel as if I was in a position to be asking him to do anything for
-me. But I thought, maybe, if you spoke to him yourself when he came, and
-put it on the grounds of a favour to you, maybe he'd not put any more than
-just a little short piece in the paper saying suit had been filed—Curd
-against Curd—for a plain divorce, or maybe he might leave it out of
-his paper altogether. I'd like to see Luella shielded from any newspaper
-talk. It's not as if there was a scandal in it or a fight was going to be
-made.” He bent forward in his eagerness. “Do you reckon you could do that
-much for me, Judge Priest—for old times' sake?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Ah-hah,” assented Judge Priest. “I reckin part of it kin be arranged
-anyway. I kin have Lishy Milam set the case forward on the docket at the
-head of the list of uncontested actions. And I'll mention the matter to
-that there young Rawlings ef you want me to. Speaking personally, I should
-think jest a line or two ought to satisfy the readers of the <i>Daily
-Evenin' News</i>. Of course him bein' a reporter and all that, he'll
-probably want to know whut the facts are ez set forth in your petition—
-whut allegations are made in—”
- </p>
-<p>
-He stopped in mid-speech, seeing how the other had flinched at this last.
-Mr. Curd parted his lips to interrupt, but the old judge, having no wish
-to flick wounds already raw, hurried on: “Don't you worry, Lysandy, I'll
-be glad to speak to young Rawlings. I jedge you've got no call to feel
-uneasy about whut's goin' to be said in print. You was sayin' jest now
-that the papers would be filed sometime to-day?” “They'll be filed to-day
-sure.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And no defence is to be made?” continued Judge Priest, tallying off the
-points on his fingers. “And you've retained Bigger & Quigley to
-represent you—that's right, ain't it?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Hold on a minute, Judge,” Mr. Curd was shaking his whity-grey head in
-dissent. “I've taken up a lot of your valuable time already, and still it
-would seem like I haven't succeeded in getting this affair all straight in
-your mind. Bigger & Quigley are not going to represent me. They're
-going to represent Luella.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He spoke as one stating an accepted and easily understood fact, yet at the
-words Judge Priest reared back as far as his chair would let him go and
-his ruddy cheeks swelled out with the breath of amazement.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Do you mean to tell me,” he demanded, “that you ain't the plaintiff
-here?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Why, Judge Priest,” answered Mr. Curd, “you didn't think for a minute,
-did you, that I'd come into court seeking to blacken my wife's good name?
-She's been thoughtless, maybe, but I know she don't mean any harm by it,
-and besides look how young she is. It's her, of course, that's asking for
-this divorce—I thought you understood about that from the
-beginning.” Still in his posture of astonishment, Judge Priest put another
-question and put it briskly: “Might it be proper fur me to ask on what
-grounds this lady is suin' you fur a divorce?”
- </p>
-<p>
-A wave of dull red ran up old Mr. Curd's throat and flooded his shamed
-face to the hair line.
-</p>
-<p>
-“On two grounds,” he said—“non-support and drunkenness.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Non-support?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes; I haven't been able to take care of her lately as I should like to,
-on account of my business difficulties and all.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But look here at me, Lysandy Curd—you ain't no drunkard. You never
-was one. Don't tell me that!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, now, Judge Priest,” argued Mr. Curd, “you don't know about my
-private habits, and even if I haven't been drinking in public up to now,
-that's no sign I'm not fixing to start in doing so. Besides which my
-keeping silent shows that I admit to everything, don't it? Well, then?” He
-stood up. “Well, I reckon that's all. I won't be detaining you any longer.
-I'm much obliged to you, Judge, and I wish you good-day, sir.”
- </p>
-<p>
-For once Judge Priest forgot his manners. He uttered not a syllable, but
-only stared through his spectacles in stunned and stricken silence while
-Mr. Curd passed out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind him.
-Then Judge Priest vented his emotions in a series of snorts.
-</p>
-<p>
-In modern drama what is technically known as the stage aside has gone out
-of vogue; it is called old-fashioned. Had a latter-day playwright been
-there then, he would have resented the judge's thoughtlessness in
-addressing empty space. Nevertheless that was exactly what the judge did.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Under the strict letter of the law I ought to throw that case out of
-court, I s'pose. But I'm teetotally dam' ef I do any sech thing!... That
-old man's heart is broke now, and there ain't no earthly reason that I kin
-think of why that she-devil should be allowed to tromp on the pieces. And
-that's jest exactly whut she'll do, shore ez shootin', unless she's let
-free mighty soon to go her own gait.... Their feet take hold on hell....
-I'll bet in the Kingdom there'll be many a man that was called a
-simple-minded fool on this earth that'll wear the biggest, shiniest halo
-old Peter kin find in stock.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He reached for the Trigger Sam book, but put it back again in the drawer.
-He reached into a gaping side pocket of his coat for his corncob pipe, but
-forgot to charge the fire-blackened bowl from the tobacco cannister that
-stood handily upon his desk. Chewing hard upon the discoloured cane stem
-of his pipe, he projected himself toward the back room and opened the
-door, to find Mr. Milam, the circuit clerk, and Mr. Birdsong, the sheriff,
-still engaged together in official duties there.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Lishy,” he said from the doorway, “young Rawlings generally gits round
-here about two o'clock in the evenin', don't he?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Generally about two or two-thirty,” said Mr. Milam.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I thought so. Well, to-day when he comes tell him, please, I want to see
-him a minute in my chambers.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What if you're not here? Couldn't I give him the message?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'll be here,” promised the judge. “And there's one thing more: Bigger
-& Quigley will file a divorce petition to-day—Curd versus Curd
-is the title of the suit. Put it at the head of the list of undefended
-actions, please, Lishy, ez near the top of the docket ez you kin.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Curd? Is it the Lysander Curds, Judge?”, asked Mr. Milam.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You guessed right the very first pop—it's the Lysandy Curds,” said
-Judge Priest grimly.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, for one I'm not surprised,” said Mr. Milam. “If poor old Lysander
-hadn't stayed blind for about two years after the rest of this town got
-its eyes wide open this suit would have been filed long before now.”
- </p>
-<p>
-But Judge Priest didn't hear him. He had closed the door.
-</p>
-<p>
-Mr. Milam looked meaningly at Mr. Birdsong. Mr. Birdsong felt in his
-pocket for his plug and helped himself to a copious chew, meanwhile
-looking meaningly back at Mr. Milam. With the cud properly bestowed in his
-right jaw Mr. Birdsong gave vent to what for him was a speech of
-considerable length: '“Jedge said Bigger & Quigley, didn't he? Well,
-they're a good smart team of lawyers, but ef I was in Lysander John Curd's
-shoes I think I'd intrust my interests in this matter to a different firm
-than them.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Who's that?” inquired Mr. Milam.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It's a Yankee firm up North,” answered Mr. Birdsong, masticating slowly.
-“One named Smith and the other'n named Wesson.”
- </p>
-<p>
-It will be noted that our worthy sheriff fell plump into the same error
-over which Judge Priest's feet had stumbled a few minutes earlier—he
-assumed offhand, Sheriff Birdsong did, that in this cause of Curd against
-Curd the husband was to play the rôle of the party aggrieved. Indeed, we
-may feel safe in assuming that at first blush almost anybody in our town
-would have been guilty of that same mistake. The real truth in this
-regard, coming out, as it very shortly did—before sunset of that
-day, in fact—gave the community a profound shock. From house to
-house, from street to street and from civic ward to civic ward the tale
-travelled, growing as it went. The <i>Daily Evening News</i> carried
-merely the barest of bare statements, coupled with the style of the action
-and the names of the attorneys for the plaintiff; but with spicy added
-details, pieced out from surmise and common rumour, the amazing tidings
-percolated across narrow roads and through the panels of partition fences
-with a rapidity which went far toward proving that the tongue is mightier
-than the printed line, or at least is speedier.
-</p>
-<p>
-When you see a woman hasten forth from her house with eyes that burn and
-hear her hail her neighbour next door; when you see their two heads meet
-above the intervening pickets and observe that one is doing the talking
-and the other is doing the listening, sucking her breath in, gaspingly, at
-frequent intervals; and when on top of this you take note that, having
-presently parted company with the first, the second woman speeds hot-foot
-to call her neighbour upon the other side, all men may know by these
-things alone that a really delectable scandal has been loosed upon the
-air. Not once but many times this scene was enacted in our town that
-night, between the going-down of the sun and the coming-up of the moon.
-Also that magnificent adjunct of modern civilisation, the telephone,
-helped out tremendously in spreading the word.
-</p>
-<p>
-Hard upon the heels of the first jolting disclosure correlated incidents
-eventuated, and these, as the saying goes, supplied fuel to the flames.
-Just before supper-time old Mr. Ly-sander Curd went with dragging feet and
-downcast head to Mrs. Teenie Morrill's boarding house, carrying in one
-hand a rusty valise, and from Mrs. Morrill he straightway engaged board
-and lodging for an indefinite period. And in the early dusk of the evening
-Mrs. Lysander Curd drove out in the smart top-phaeton that her husband had
-given her on her most recent birthday—she sitting very erect and
-handling the ribbons on her little spirited bay mare very prettily, and
-seemingly all oblivious to the hostile eyes which stared at her from
-sidewalks and porch fronts. About dark she halted at the corner of Clay
-and Contest, where a row of maples, new fledged with young leaves, made a
-thick shadow across the road.
-</p>
-<p>
-Exactly there, as it so chanced, State Senator Horace K. Maydew happened
-to be loitering about, enjoying the cooling breezes of the spring night,
-and he lifted his somewhat bulky but athletic forty-year-old form into the
-phaeton alongside of the lady. In close conversation they were seen to
-drive out Contest and to turn into the Towhead Road; and—if we may
-believe what that willing witness, old Mrs. Whitridge, who lived at the
-corner of Clay and Contest, had to say upon the subject—it was ten
-minutes of eleven o'clock before they got back again to that corner. Mrs.
-Whitridge knew the exact hour, because she stayed up in her front room to
-watch, with one eye out of the bay window and the other on the mantel
-clock. To be sure, this had happened probably a hundred times before—this
-meeting of the pair in the shadows of the water maples, this riding in
-company over quiet country roads until all hours—but by reason of
-the day's sensational developments it now took on an enhanced
-significance. Mrs. Whitridge could hardly wait until morning to call up,
-one by one, the members of her circle of intimate friends. I judge the
-telephone company never made much money off of Mrs. Whitridge even in
-ordinary times; she rented her telephone by the month and she used it by
-the hour.
-</p>
-<p>
-As we are following the course of things with some regard for their
-chronological sequence, perhaps I should state here that on the next day
-but one the Lysander John Curd hay and feed store was closed on executions
-sworn out by a coterie of panic-stricken creditors. It is a mistake, I
-think, to assume that rats always leave a sinking ship. It has been my
-limited observation that, if they are commercial rats, they stay aboard
-and nibble more holes in the hull. However, that is neither here nor
-there.
-</p>
-<p>
-In less than no time at all following this—in less than two weeks
-thereafter, to be exact—the coils which united Mr. Lysander Curd and
-Luella his wife in the bonds of matrimony were by due process of the
-statutory law unloosed and slackened off. Being free, the ex-husband
-promptly gathered together such meagre belongings as he might call his own
-and betook himself to that little mortgage-covered farm of his out Lone
-Elm way. Being free also, the ex-wife with equal celerity became the bride
-of State Senator Horace K. Maydew, with a handy justice of the peace to
-officiate at the ceremony. It was characteristic of State Senator Maydew
-that he should move briskly in consummating this, the paramount romance of
-his life. For he was certainly an up-and-coming man.
-</p>
-<p>
-There was no holding him down, it seemed. Undoubtedly he was a rising
-light, and the lady who now bore his name was bound and determined that
-she rise with him. She might have made one matrimonial mistake, but this
-time she had hitched her wagon to a star—a star which soared amain
-and cast its radiance afar. Soon she was driving her own car—and a
-seven-passenger car at that. They sent to Chicago for an architect to
-design their new home on Flournoy Boulevard and to Louisville for a
-decorator to decorate it. It wasn't the largest house in town, but it was
-by long odds the smartest.
-</p>
-<p>
-The Senator willed that she should have the best of everything, and she
-had it. For himself he likewise desired much. His was an uneasy ambition,
-which ate into him like a canker and gave him no peace. Indeed, peace was
-not of his craving. He watered his desire with the waters of
-self-appreciation and mulched it with constant energy, and behold it grew
-like the gourd and bourgeoned like the bay. He had been mayor; at this
-time he was state senator; presently it was to transpire that he would
-admire to be more than that.
-</p>
-<p>
-Always his handclasp had been ardent and clinging. Now the inner flames
-that burned its owner made it feverish to the touch. His smile was as
-warming as a grate fire and almost as wide. Shoulders were made for him to
-slap, and children had been created into the world to the end that he
-might inquire regarding their general health and well doing. Wherefore
-parents—and particularly young parents—were greatly drawn to
-him. If there was a lodge he joined it; if there was a church fair he went
-to it; if there was an oration to be made he made it. His figure broadened
-and took on a genial dignity. Likewise in the accumulation of worldly
-goods he waxed amazingly well. His manner was paternal where it was not
-fraternal. His eye, though, remained as before—a sharp, greedy,
-appraising eye. There is no alibi for a bad eye. Still, a lot of people
-never look as high as the eyes. They stop at the diamond in the scarfpin.
-</p>
-<p>
-When a vacancy occurred in the district chairmanship it seemed quite in
-keeping with the trend of the political impulses of the times that Senator
-Maydew should slip into the hole. Always a clever organiser, he excelled
-his past record in building up and strengthening the district
-organisation. It wasn't long before he had his fences as they should be—hog-tight,
-horse-high and bull-strong.
-</p>
-<p>
-Yet in the midst of manifold activities he found time to be an attentive
-and indulgent husband. If the new Mrs. Maydew did not enjoy the aloof
-society of those whom we fondly call down our way The Old Families, at
-least she had her fine new home, and her seven-passenger car, and her
-generous and loving husband. And she was content; you could tell that by
-her air and her expression at all times. Some thought there was just a
-trace of defiance in her bearing.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was just about a year after her marriage to him that the Senator, in
-response to the demands of a host of friends and admirers—so ran the
-language of his column-long paid-for card in the <i>Daily Evening News</i>
-and other papers—announced himself as a candidate for the Democratic
-nomination for congressman. Considering conditions and everything, the
-occasion appeared to be propitious for such action on his part. The
-incumbent, old Major J. C. C. Guest, had been congressman a long, long
-time—entirely too long a time, some were beginning to say. He had
-never been a particularly exciting personage, even back yonder in those
-remote dim days of his entry into public life. At the beginning his
-principal asset and his heaviest claim upon the support of his
-fellow-citizens had been an empty trouser-leg.
-</p>
-<p>
-In eighty-four, a cross-roads wag had said he didn't believe Major Guest
-ever lost that leg in battle—it was his private opinion that the
-Maje wore it off running for office. At the time this quip was thought
-almost to border upon the sacrilegious, and nobody had laughed at it
-except the utterer thereof. But fully sixteen lagging years had dragged by
-since then; and for the old-soldier element the times were out of joint.
-Maybe that was because there weren't so very many of the old soldier
-element left. A mouse-coloured sleeve without an arm inside of it, no
-longer had the appeal upon the popular fancy that once it had, and the
-same was true of the one-time sentimental and vote-catching combination of
-a pair of hickory crutches and an amputation at the hip joint.
-</p>
-<p>
-Nevertheless, Major Guest was by no means ready to give up and quit. With
-those who considered him ripe for retirement he disagreed violently. As
-between resting on his laurels and dying in the harness he infinitely
-preferred the chafe of the leather to the questionable softness of the
-laurel-bed. So the campaign shaped itself to be a regular campaign. Except
-for these two—Maydew and Guest—there were no openly avowed
-candidates, though Dabney Prentiss, who dearly loved a flirtation with
-reluctant Destiny, was known to have his ear to the ground, ready to
-qualify as the dark horse in the event a deadlock should develop and a cry
-go forth for a compromise nominee. Possibly it was because Dabney Prentiss
-generally kept his ear to the ground that he had several times been most
-painfully trampled upon. From head to foot he was one big mental bruise.
-</p>
-<p>
-Since he held the levers of the district machinery in the hollows of his
-two itching hands, Senator Maydew very naturally and very properly elected
-to direct his own canvass. Judge Priest, quitting the bench temporarily,
-came forth to act as manager for his friend, Major Guest. At this there
-was rejoicing in the camp of the clan of Maydew. To Maydew and his
-lieutenants it appeared that providence had dealt the good cards into
-their laps. Undeniably the judge was old and, moreover, he was avowedly
-old-fashioned. It stood to reason he would conduct the affairs of his
-candidate along old-fashioned lines. To be sure, he had his following; so
-much was admitted. Nobody could beat Judge Priest for his own job; at
-least nobody ever had. But controlling his own job and his own county was
-one thing. Engineering a district-wide canvass in behalf of an aging and
-uninspiring incumbent was another. And if over the bent shoulders of Major
-Guest they might strike a blow at Judge Priest, why, so much the better
-for Maydew now, and so much the worse for Priest hereafter. Thus to their
-own satisfaction the Maydew men figured it out.
-</p>
-<p>
-The campaign went forward briskly and not without some passing show of
-bitterness. In a measure, Judge Priest justified the predictions of the
-other side by employing certain timehallowed expedients for enlisting the
-votes of his fellow Democrats for Major Guest. He appealed, as it were, to
-the musty traditions of a still mustier past. He sent the Major over the
-district to make speeches. He organised school-house rallies and
-brush-arbour ratifications. He himself was mighty in argument and opulent
-in the use of homely oratory.
-</p>
-<p>
-Very different was the way of State Senator Maydew. The speeches that he
-made were few as to number and brief as to their length, but they were not
-bad speeches. He was a ready and a frequent purchaser of newspaper space;
-and he shook hands and slapped shoulders and inquired after babies without
-cessation. But most of all he kept both of his eyes and all of his ten
-nimble fingers upon the machine, triggering it and thimbling it and
-pulling at secret wires by day and by night. It was, perhaps, a tribute to
-his talents in this direction that the method that he inaugurated was
-beginning to be called Maydewism—by the opposition, of course—before
-the canvass was a month old. In an unusually vociferous outburst of
-indignation at a meeting in the Independent Order of Odd Fellows' hall at
-Settleville, Major Guest referred to it as “the fell blight of Maydewism.”
- When a physician discovers a new and especially malignant disease his
-school of practice compliments him by naming the malady after him; when a
-political leader develops a political system of his own, his opponents,
-although actuated by different motives, do the same thing, which may be
-taken as an absolute sign that the person in question has made some
-sincere enemies at least. But if Maydew made enemies he made friends too;
-at any rate he made followers. As the campaign drew near to its crackling
-finish it was plain that he would carry most of the towns; Major Guest's
-strength apparently was in the country—among the farmers and the
-dwellers in small villages.
-</p>
-<p>
-County conventions to name delegates to the district conventions which, in
-turn, would name the congressional nominee were held simultaneously in the
-nine counties composing the district at two P. M. of the first Tuesday
-after the first Monday in August. A week before, Senator Maydew, having
-cannily provided that his successor should be a man after his own heart,
-resigned as district chairman. Although he had thrown overboard most of
-the party precedents, it seemed to him hardly ethical that he should call
-to order and conduct the preliminary proceedings of the body that he
-counted upon to nominate him as its standard bearer—standard bearer
-being the somewhat ornamental phrase customarily used among us on these
-occasions. He was entirely confident of the final outcome. The cheering
-reports of his aides in the field made him feel quite sure that the main
-convention would take but one ballot. They allowed, one and all, it would
-be a walk-over.
-</p>
-<p>
-Howsoever, these optimists, as it developed, had reckoned without one
-factor: they had reckoned without a certain undercurrent of disfavour for
-Maydew which, though it remained for the most part inarticulate during the
-campaign, was to manifest itself in the county conventions. Personalities,
-strictly speaking, had not been imported into the fight. Neither candidate
-had seen fit to attack the private life of his opponent, but at the last
-moment there came to the surface an unexpected and, in the main, a silent
-antagonism against the Senator which could hardly be accounted for on the
-ground of any act of his official and public career.
-</p>
-<p>
-So, late in the afternoon of the first Tuesday after the first Monday,
-when the smoke cleared away and the shouting and the tumult died, the
-complete returns showed that of the nine counties, totalling one hundred
-and twenty delegate votes, Maydew had four counties and fifty-seven votes.
-Guest had carried four counties also, with fifty-one votes, while Bryce
-County, the lowermost county of the district, had failed to instruct its
-twelve delegates for either Maydew or Guest, which, to anybody who knew
-anything at all about politics, was proof positive that in the main
-convention Bryce County would hold the balance of power. It wouldn't be a
-walkover; that much was certain, anyhow. May-dew's jaunty smile lost some
-of its jauntiness, and anxious puckers made little seams at the corners of
-those greedy eyes of his, when the news from Bryce County came. As for
-Judge Priest, he displayed every outward sign of being well content as he
-ran over the completed figures. Bryce was an old-fashioned county, mainly
-populated by a people who clung to old-fashioned notions. Old soldiers
-were notably thick in Bryce, too. There was a good chance yet for his man.
-It all depended on those twelve votes of Bryce County.
-</p>
-<p>
-To Marshallville, second largest town in the district, befell the honour
-that year of having the district convention held in its hospitable midst;
-and, as the <i>Daily Evening News</i> smartly phrased it, to Marshallville
-on a Thursday All Roads Ran. In accordance with the rote of fifty years it
-had been ordained that the convention should meet in the Marshallville
-courthouse, but in the week previous a fire of mysterious origin destroyed
-a large segment of the shingled roof of that historic structure. A darky
-was on trial for hog stealing upon the day of the fire, and it may have
-been that sparks from the fiery oratory of the prosecuting attorney, as he
-pleaded with the jury for a conviction, went upward and lodged among the
-rafters. As to that I am not in a position to say. I only know this
-explanation for the catastrophe was advanced by divers ribald-minded
-individuals who attended the trial.
-</p>
-<p>
-In this emergency the local committee on arrangements secured for the
-convention the use of the new Marshallville opera house, which was the
-pride of Marshallville—a compact but ornate structure having on its
-first floor no less than one hundred and fifty of those regular theatre
-chairs magnificently upholstered in hot red plush, and above, at the back,
-a balcony, and to crown all, two orthodox stage boxes of stucco, liberally
-embossed with gold paint, which clung, like gilded mud-daubers' nests, at
-either side of the proscenium arch, overhanging the stage below.
-</p>
-<p>
-In one of these boxes, as the delegates gathered that very warm August
-afternoon, a lady sat in solitary state. To the delegates were assigned
-the plush-enveloped grandeurs of the main floor. The spectators, including
-a large number of the male citizens of Marshallville with a sprinkling of
-their women-folk, packed the balcony to the stifling point, but this lady
-had a whole box to herself. She seemed fairly well pleased with herself as
-she sat there. Certainly she had no cause to complain of a lack of public
-interest in her and her costume. To begin with, there was a much beplumed
-hat, indubitably a thing of great cost and of augmented size, which
-effectively shaded and set off her plump face. No such hat had been seen
-in Marshallville before that day.
-</p>
-<p>
-The gown she wore was likewise of a fashion new to the dazzled gaze of her
-more plainly habited sisters in the balcony. I believe in the favoured
-land where they originated they call them princesse gowns. Be its name
-what it may, this garment ran in long, well-nigh un wrinkled lines from
-the throat of its wearer to her ankles.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was of some clinging white stuff, modelled seemingly with an intent to
-expose rather than to hide the curves of the rounded figure which it
-covered. It was close at the neck, snug at the bust, snugger still at the
-hips, and from there it flowed on tightly yet smoothly to where it ended,
-above a pair of high-heeled, big-buckled slippers of an amazing shininess.
-The uninitiated might well have marvelled how the lady ever got in her
-gown unless she had been melted and poured into it; but there was no
-mystery concerning the manner in which she had fastened it, once she was
-inside of it, for, when she turned away from the audience, a wondrously
-decorative finishing touch was to be seen: straight down the middle of her
-back coursed a close row of big, shiny black jet buttons, and when she
-shifted her shoulders these buttons undulated glisteningly along the line
-of her spinal column. The effect was snaky but striking.
-</p>
-<p>
-The lady, plainly, was not exactly displeased with herself. Even a rear
-view of her revealed this. There was assurance in the poise of her head;
-assuredly there was a beaming as of confidence in her eyes. Indeed, she
-had reasons other than the satisfaction inspired by the possession of a
-modish and becoming garb for feeling happy. Things promised to go well
-with her and what was hers that afternoon. Perhaps I should have stated
-sooner that the lady in question was Mrs. Senator Maydew, present to
-witness and to glorify the triumph of her distinguished husband.
-</p>
-<p>
-For a fact, triumph did seem near at hand now—nearer than it had
-been any time these past forty-eight hours. A quarter of an hour earlier
-an exultant messenger had come from her husband to bring to her most
-splendid and auspicious tidings. Luck had swung his way, and no mistake
-about it: of the doubtful delegates from Bryce County only two had
-arrived. The other ten had not arrived. Moreover there was no apparent
-possibility that they would arrive before the following day, and by then,
-if the Senator's new-born scheme succeeded, it would be all over but the
-shouting. A Heavensent freshet in Little River was the cause. Sitting
-there now in her stage box, Mrs. Senator Maydew silently blessed the name
-of Little River.
-</p>
-<p>
-Ordinarily Little River is a stream not calculated to attract the
-attention of historians or geographers—a torpid, saffron-coloured
-thread of water meandering between flat yellow banks, and owing its chief
-distinction to the fact that it cuts off three-quarters of Bryce County
-from the remaining quarter and from the adjoining counties on the north.
-But it has its moods and its passions. It is temperamental, that river.
-Suddenly and enormously swollen by torrential summer rains in the hills
-where it has its rise, it went, the night before, on a rampage,
-over-flooding its banks, washing away fences and doing all manner of minor
-damage in the low grounds.
-</p>
-<p>
-At dawn the big bridge which spanned the river at the gravel road had gone
-out, and at breakfast time Ferris' Ford, a safe enough crossing place in
-times of low water, was fifteen feet deep under a hissing brown flood. Two
-of Bryce County's delegates, who chanced to live in the upper corner of
-the county, had driven through hub-deep mud to the junction and there
-caught the train for Marshallville; but their ten compatriots were even
-now somewhere on the far bank, cut off absolutely from all prospect of
-attending the convention until the roiled and angry waters should subside.
-</p>
-<p>
-Senator Maydew, always fertile in expedient, meant to ride to victory, as
-it were, on the providential high tide in Little River. Immediately on
-hearing what had happened, he divined how the mishap of the washed-out
-bridge and the flooded ford might be made to serve his ends and better his
-fortunes. He was keeping the plan secret for the moment; for it was a very
-precious plan. And this, in effect, was the word that his emissary brought
-to his wife just before the convention met. He could not bring it himself;
-custom forbade that a candidate show himself upon the floor in the early
-stages, but she was told to wait and watch for what would presently ensue,
-and meanwhile be of good cheer. Which, verily, she was.
-</p>
-<p>
-She did not have so very long to wait. The convention assembled on the
-hour—a block of ten vacant seats in the second aisle showing where
-the missing ten of Bryce should have been—and was called to order by
-the new district chairman. Up rose Judge Priest from his place in the
-middle of the house, flanking the centre aisle, and addressed the chair.
-He had just learned, he stated, that a considerable quota of the number of
-duly chosen delegates had not yet reached Marshallville. It appeared that
-the elements were in conspiracy against the extreme lower end of the
-district. In justice to the sovereign voters of the sovereign County of
-Bryce he moved that a recess of twenty-four hours be taken. The situation
-which had arisen was unforeseen and extraordinary, and time should be
-granted for considering it in all its aspects. And so on and so forth for
-five minutes or more, in Judge Priest's best ungrammatical style. The
-chairman, who, as will be recalled, was Maydew's man, ruled the motion out
-of order.
-</p>
-<p>
-I shall pass over as briefly as possible the proceedings of the next half
-hour. To go fully into those details would be to burden this narrative
-with technicalities and tiresomeness. For our purposes it is sufficient, I
-think, to say that the Maydew machine, operating after the fashion of a
-well-lubricated, well-steered and high-pow-ered steam roller, ran over all
-obstacles with the utmost despatch. These painful crunching operations
-began early and continued briskly.
-</p>
-<p>
-On the first roll call of the counties, as the County of Bryce—second
-on our list after Bland—was reached, one of those two lone delegates
-from the upper side of Little River stood up and, holding aloft his own
-credentials and the credentials of his team-mate, demanded the right to
-cast the votes of the whole Bryce County delegation—twelve in all.
-</p>
-<p>
-The district chairman, acting with a promptness that bespoke priming
-beforehand for just such a contingency, held that the matter should be
-referred to the committee on credentials. As floor leader and spokesman
-for the Guest faction, old Judge Priest appealed from the ruling of the
-chair. A vote was taken. The chairman was sustained by fifty-seven to
-fifty-one, the two indignant delegates from Bryce not being permitted,
-under a ruling from the chair, to cast any votes whatsoever, seeing as
-their own status in the convention was the question at issue. Disorder
-ensued; in the absence of a sergeant-at-arms the services of volunteer
-peacemakers were required to separate a Maydew delegate from Bland County
-and a Guest delegate from Mims County.
-</p>
-<p>
-Dripping with perspiration, his broad old face one big pinky-red flare,
-his nasal whine rising to heights of incredible whininess under the stress
-of his earnestness, the judge led the fight for the minority. The steam
-roller went out of its way to flatten him. Not once, but twice and thrice
-it jounced over him, each time leaving him figuratively squashed but
-entirely undismayed. He was fighting a losing but a valiant fight for
-time.
-</p>
-<p>
-A committee on resolutions was named and went forth to an ante-room to
-draw up a platform. Nobody cared much about that. A set of resolutions
-pointing with pride to everything that was Democratic and viewing with
-alarm everything even remotely Republican in aspect would be presently
-forthcoming, as was customary. It was the committee on credentials upon
-which everything depended. Being chosen, it likewise retired, returning in
-a miraculously short space of time with its completed report.
-</p>
-<p>
-And this in brief was what the majority of the committee on credentials—all
-reliable Maydew men—had to report:
-</p>
-<p>
-There being no contests, it was recommended that the sitting delegates
-from the eight counties fully represented upon the floor be recognised as
-properly accredited delegates. But in respect to the ninth county, namely
-Bryce, an unprecedented situation had arisen. Two of Bryce's delegates
-were present, bearing credentials properly attested by their county
-chairman; unfortunately ten others were absent, through no fault of their
-own or of the convention. As a majority of the credentials committee
-viewed the matter, it would be a manifest injustice to deprive these two
-delegates of their right to take a hand in the deliberations; on the other
-hand, the committee held it to be equally unfair that those two should be
-permitted to cast the ballots of their ten associates, inasmuch as they
-could have no way of knowing what the personal preferences of the
-absentees might be. However, to meet the peculiar condition the committee
-now made the following recommendation, to wit as follows: That the
-secretary of the convention be instructed to prepare an alphabetical list
-of such delegates as were present in person, and that only such delegates
-as answered to their own names upon roll call—and no others
-whatsoever—be permitted to vote upon any question or questions
-subsequently arising in this convention. Respectfully submitted.
-</p>
-<p>
-For a period of time to be measured by split seconds there was silence.
-Then a whirlwind of sound whipped round and round that packed little
-martin-box of an opera house and, spiraling upward, threatened the
-integrity of its tin roof. Senator Maydew had delivered his king-stroke,
-and the purport of it stood clearly betrayed to the understanding of all.
-With Bryce's voting strength reduced from twelve votes to two, and with
-all possibility of voting by proxy removed, the senator was bound to win
-the nomination on the first ballot. The Maydew men foresaw the inevitable
-result, once the recommendation of the committee had prevailed and they
-reared up in their places and threw their hats aloft and yelled. The Guest
-forces saw it, and they howled their disapprobation until they were
-hoarse.
-</p>
-<p>
-The tumult stilled down to a ground breeze of mutterings as Judge Priest
-got upon his feet. To him in this dire emergency the Guest forces, now
-neck-deep in the last ditch, looked hopefully for a counterfire that might
-yet save them from the defeat looming so imminent. There and then, for
-once in his life the judge failed to justify the hopes and the faith of
-his followers. He seemed strangely unable to find language in which
-effectively to combat the proposition before the house. He floundered
-about, making no headway, pushing no points home. He practically admitted
-he knew of nothing in party usage or in parliamentary law that might serve
-as a bar to the adoption of the proposed rule. He proposed to vote against
-it, he said, but in the event that it be adopted he now moved that
-immediately thereafter the convention take an adjournment, thus giving the
-secretary time and opportunity in which to prepare the alphabetical list.
-With that he broke off suddenly and quit and sat down; and then the heart
-went out of the collective body of the Guest adherents and they quit, too,
-waiting in sullen, bewildered, disappointed silence for the inevitable.
-</p>
-<p>
-After this it was felt that any further opposition to the Maydew programme
-would be but perfunctory opposition. The majority report of the committee
-on credentials was adopted by fifty-seven to fifty-three, the two Bryce
-delegates voting in the negative, as was to be expected. Even so, Maydew
-had a lead of four votes, which was not very many—but enough. To the
-accompaniment of a few scattering and spiritless <i>Nays</i> the
-convention took a recess of one hour. This meant a mighty busy hour for
-the secretary, but Maydew, from his temporary abiding place in the wings,
-sent orders to his floor managers to permit no more than an hour's delay
-at most. He was famishing for the taste of his accomplished triumph.
-Besides, there was no trusting so mercurial a stream as Little River. It
-might go down with the same rapidity that had marked its coming up. So an
-hour it was.
-</p>
-<p>
-The delegates flowed out of the Marshallville opera house into the public
-square of Marshallville, and half of them, or a little more than half,
-were openly, jubilant; and half of them, or a little less than half, were
-downcast, wearing the look upon their faces of men who were licked and who
-knew it, good and well. Moving along through the crowded aisle, a
-despondent delegate from Mims, a distant kinsman of Major Guest, found
-himself touching shoulders with Sergeant Jimmy Bagby, who was a delegate
-from our own county.
-</p>
-<p>
-The Mims County man, with a contemptuous flirt of his thumb, indicated the
-broad back of Judge Priest as the judge ambled deliberately along toward
-the door.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I knowed it,” he said in the tones of bitter recapitulation; “I knowed it
-frum the start and I told 'em so; but no, they wouldn't listen to me. I
-knowed old Priest yonder was too old to be tryin' to run a campaign
-ag'inst a smart feller like Maydew, dem his slick hide! When the real test
-come, whut did your Jedge Priest do? Why, he jest natchelly curled up and
-laid flat down—that's whut he done. I reckin they'll listen to me
-next time.”
- </p>
-<p>
-For once in his life, and once only, Sergeant Jimmy Bagby teetered just
-the least bit in his unquestioning allegiance to his life-long friend.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, I don't know,” he said, shaking his head; “I don't know. You might
-be right in what you say, and then ag'in you might be wrong. It shore did
-look like he slipped a little, awhile ago, but you can't jest always tell
-whut's on Jedge Priest's mind,” he added, pluckily renewing his loyalty.
-</p>
-<p>
-The Mims County man grunted his disgust. “Don't be foolin' yourself,” he
-stated morosely. “You take it frum me—when old men start goin' they
-don't never come back. And your old Jedge is plumb gone. A baby could 'a'
-seen that frum the way he acted jest now.” The object of this criticism
-ploughed his slow way outdoors, all the while shaking his head with the
-air of one who has abandoned hope. In the street he gently but firmly
-disengaged himself from those who would have speech with him, and with
-obvious gloom in his manner made a way across the square to the Mansard
-House, where he and Major Guest had adjoining rooms on the second floor.
-His gait briskened, though, as soon as he had passed through the lobby of
-the Mansard House and was hidden from the eyes of friend and enemy alike.
-</p>
-<p>
-From the privacy of his room he sent out for certain men. With Cap'n Buck
-Owings, a small, greyish, resolute gentleman, and with Sheriff Giles
-Birdsong, a large, reddish, equally resolute gentleman, he was closeted
-perhaps ten minutes. They went away saying nothing to any one, for the
-gift of silence was an attribute that these two shared in common. Then the
-judge had brief audience with Major Guest, who emerged from the conference
-a crushed and diminished figure. Finally he asked to speak with Sergeant
-Bagby. The sergeant found him sitting in his shirt-sleeves, with his feet
-on a window ledge, looking out into the square and gently agitating a
-palm-leaf fan.
-</p>
-<p>
-“<i>Jimmy</i>,” he said, “I want you to run an errand fur me. Will you go
-find Dabney Prentiss—I seen him down there on the street a minute
-ago—and tell him I say to git a speech ready?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Whut kind of a speech?” inquired Sergeant Bagby.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Jimmy Bagby,” reproved Judge Priest, “ain't you knowed Dab Prentiss long
-enough to know that you don't have to tell him whut kind of a speech he's
-to make? He's got all kinds of speeches in stock at all times. I'll
-confide this much to you though—it'll be the kind of a speech that
-he would 'specially prefer to make. Jest tell him I say be ready to speak
-out and utter a few burnin' words when the proper time comes, ef it does
-come, which I certainly hope and trust it may.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Not greatly informed in his mind by this somewhat cryptic explanation, the
-Sergeant withdrew, and Judge Priest, getting up on his feet, actually
-began humming a little wordless, tuneless tune which was a favourite of
-his. However, a thought of the melancholy interview that he had just had
-with Major Guest must have recurred to him almost immediately, for when he
-appeared in the open a bit later on his return to the opera house his head
-was bent and his form was shrunken and his gait was slow. He seemed a man
-weighed down with vain repinings and vainer regrets.
-</p>
-<p>
-It would appear that the secretary in the interim had completed his
-appointed task, for no sooner had the convention reassembled than the
-chairman mounted to the stage and took his place alongside a small table
-behind the footlights and announced that nominations would now be in
-order; which statement was a cue for Attorney-at-Law Augustus Tate, of the
-County of Emmett, to get gracefully upon his feet and toss back his
-imposing sable mane and address the assemblage.
-</p>
-<p>
-Attorney Tate was an orator of parts, as he now proceeded to prove beyond
-the slightest peradventure of a doubt. He was known as the Black Eagle of
-Emmett, for it had been said of him that he had an eye like that noble
-bird, the eagle. He had a chin like one, too; but that, of course, had no
-bearing upon his talents as displayed upon the stump, on the platform and
-in the forum, and in truth only a few malicious detractors had ever felt
-called upon to direct attention to the fact. In flowing and sonorous
-periods he placed in nomination the name of the Honourable Horace K.
-Maydew, concluding in a burst of verbal pin wheels and metaphorical
-skyrockets, whereat there was a great display of enthusiasm from floor and
-balcony.
-</p>
-<p>
-When quiet had been restored Judge Priest got slowly up from where he sat
-and took an action which was not entirely unexpected, inasmuch as rumours
-of it had been in active circulation for half an hour or more. In twenty
-words he withdrew the name of the Honourable J. C. C. Guest as a candidate
-before the convention.
-</p>
-<p>
-Only a rustle of bodies succeeded this announcement—that and an
-exhalation of breath from a few delegations, which attained to the volume
-of a deep joint sigh.
-</p>
-<p>
-The chairman glanced over the house with a brightening eye. It was almost
-time to begin the jubilation. As a matter of fact several ardent souls
-among the Maydewites could hardly hold themselves in until the few
-remaining formalities had been complied with. They poised themselves upon
-the edges of their chairs, with throats tuned to lead in the yelling.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Are there any other nominations?” asked the chairman, turning this way
-and that. He asked it as a matter of form merely. “If not, the nominations
-will be closed and the secretary will—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Mister Cheerman, one minute, ef you please.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The interrupting voice was the high-piped voice of Judge Priest, and the
-chairman straightened on his heels to find Judge Priest still upon his
-feet.
-</p>
-<p>
-“The chair recognises Judge Priest again,” said the chairman blandly. He
-assumed the judge meant to accept his beating gracefully and, in the
-interest of party harmony, to move the nomination of Maydew by
-acclamation. On his part that would have been a fair enough presumption,
-but the first utterances that came now from the old judge jerked open the
-eyes and gaped the mouth of the presiding officer. However, he was not
-alone there; nearly everybody was stunned.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It was my painful duty a minute ago to withdraw the candidate that I had
-been privileged to foller in this campaign,” said Judge Priest in his
-weedy notes. “It is now my pleasure to offer in his stead the name of
-another man as a suitable and a fittin' representative of this district in
-the National Halls of Congress.” He glanced about him as though enjoying
-the surprised hush that had fallen upon the place, and for just a fraction
-of a second his eyes focused upon the lone occupant of the right-hand
-stage box, almost above his head. Then he went on, deliberately prolonging
-his syllables:
-</p>
-<p>
-“The man whom I would nominate has never so fur as I know been active in
-politics. So fur as I know he has never aspired to or sought fur public
-office at the hands of his feller-citizens; in fact, he does not now seek
-this office. In presentin' his name for your consideration I am doin' so
-solely upon my own responsibility and without consultin' any one on this
-earth.
-</p>
-<p>
-“My present candidate is not an orator. He is not a mixer or an organiser.
-I am constrained to admit that, measured by the standards of commerce, he
-is not even a successful man. He is poor in this world's goods. He is
-leadin' at this moment a life of retirement upon a little barren hillside
-farm, where the gulleys furrow his tobacco patch and the sassafras sprouts
-are takin' his cornfield, and the shadder of a mortgage rests heavy upon
-his lonely roof tree.
-</p>
-<p>
-“But he is an honest man and a God-fearin' man. Ez a soldier under the
-stars and bars he done his duty to the sorrowful end. Ez a citizen he has
-never wilfully harmed his feller-man. He never invaded the sanctity of any
-man's home, and he never brought sorrow to any hearthstone. Ef he has his
-faults—and who amongst us is without them?—he has been the
-sole sufferer by them. I believe it has been charged that he drank some,
-but I never seen him under the influence of licker, and I don't believe
-anybody else ever did either.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I nominate———” His voice took on the shrillness of a
-fife and his right fist, pudgy and clenched, came up at arm's length above
-his head—“I nominate—and on that nomination, in accordance
-with a rule but newly framed by this body, I call here and now fur an
-alphabetical roll call of each and every delegate—I offer as a
-candidate fur Congress ag'inst the Honourable Horace K. Maydew the name of
-my friend, my neighbour and my former comrade, Lysandy John Curd, of the
-voting precinct of Lone Ellum and the County of Red Gravel.”
- </p>
-<p>
-There was no applause. Not a ripple of approbation went up, nor a ripple
-of hostility either. But a gasp went up—a mighty gasp, deep and
-sincere and tremendously significant.
-</p>
-<p>
-Of those upon the stage it was the chairman, I think, who got his wits
-back first. He was naturally quick-witted, else his sponsor would never
-have chosen him for chairman. In a mute plea for guidance he turned his
-head toward the wing of the stage where he knew that sponsor should be,
-and abruptly, at a distance from him to be measured by inches rather than
-by feet, his gaze encountered the hypnotising stare of Cap'n Buck Owings,
-who had magically materialised from nowhere in particular and was now at
-his elbow.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Stay right where you are,” counselled Cap'n Buck in a half whisper.
-“We've had plenty of these here recesses—these proceedin's are goin'
-right on.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Daunted and bewildered, the chairman hesitated, his gavel trembling in his
-temporarily palsied hand. In that same moment Sheriff Giles Birdsong had
-got upon the stage, too; only he deemed his proper place to be directly
-alongside the desk of the secretary, and into the startled ear of the
-secretary he now spoke.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Start your roll call, buddy,” was what Mr. Birdsong said, saying it
-softly, in lullaby tones, yet imparting a profound meaning to his crooning
-and gentle accents. “And be shore to call off the names in alphabetical
-order—don't fur-git that part!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Inward voices of prudence dictated the value of prompt obedience in the
-brain of that secretary. Quaveringly he called the first name on the list
-of the first county, and the county was Bland and the name was Homer H.
-Agnew.
-</p>
-<p>
-Down in the Bland County delegation, seated directly in front of the
-stage, an old man stood up—the Rev. Homer H. Agnew, an itinerant
-Baptist preacher.
-</p>
-<p>
-“My county convention,” he explained, “instructed us for Maydew. But under
-the law of this convention I vote now as an individual. As between the two
-candidates presented I can vote only one way. I vote for Curd.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Having voted, he remained standing. There were no cheers and no hisses.
-Everybody waited. In a silence so heavy that it hurt, they waited. And the
-secretary was constrained to call the second name on the Bland County
-list: “Patrick J. Burke!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Now Patrick J. Burke, as one might guess from his name, belonged to a race
-that has been called sentimental and emotional. Likewise he was a
-communicant of a faith which long ago set its face like a flint against
-the practice of divorce.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I vote for Curd,” said Patrick J. Burke, and likewise he stood up, a
-belligerent, defiant, stumpy, red-haired man.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Rufus Burnett!”
- </p>
-<p>
-This was the first convention Rufus Burnett had ever attended in an
-official capacity. In order that she might see how well he acquitted
-himself, he had brought his wife with him and put her in the balcony. We
-may figure Mrs. Burnett as a strong-minded lady, for before he answered to
-his name Mr. Burnett, as though seeking higher guidance, cocked a pestered
-eye aloft to where the lady sat, and she, saying nothing, merely pointed a
-finger toward the spot where old Judge Priest was stationed. Rufus knew.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Curd,” he said clearly and distinctly. Somebody yelled then, and other
-voices took up the yell.
-</p>
-<p>
-There were eleven names on the Bland County list. The secretary had
-reached the eighth and had heard eight voices speak the same word, when an
-interruption occurred—perhaps I should say two interruptions
-occurred.
-</p>
-<p>
-The Black Eagle of Emmett darted out from the wings, bounded over the
-footlights and split a path for himself to the seat of Judge Priest. For
-once he forgot to be oratorical. “We'll quit, Judge,” he panted, “we're
-ready to quit. Maydew will withdraw—I've just come from him. He
-can't stand for this to go on; he'll withdraw if you'll take Curd's name
-down too. Any compromise candidate will do. Only, for heaven's sake,
-withdraw Curd before this goes any farther!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“All right, son,” said Judge Priest, raising his voice to be heard, for by
-now the secretary had called the ninth name and the cheering was
-increasing in volume; “that suits me first rate. But you withdraw your man
-first, and then I'll tell you who the nominee of this here convention is
-goin' to be.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Turning, he put a hand upon Sergeant Bagby's arm and shook him until the
-sergeant broke a whoop in two and hearkened.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Jimmy,” said Judge Priest with a little chuckle, “step down the aisle,
-will you, and tell Dabney Prentiss to uncork himse'f and git his speech of
-acceptance all ready. He don't know it yit, but he's goin' to move up to
-Washington, D. C., after the next general election.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Just as the sergeant started on his mission the other interruption
-occurred. A lady fainted. She was conspicuously established in the stage
-box on the right-hand side, and under the circumstances and with so many
-harshly appraisive eyes fixed upon her there was really nothing else for
-her to do, as a lady, except faint. She slipped out of her chair and fell
-backward upon the floor. It must have been a genuine faint, for certainly
-no person who was even partly conscious, let alone a tenderly nurtured
-lady, could have endured to lie flat upon the hard planks, as this lady
-did, with all those big, knobby jet buttons grinding right into her spine.
-</p>
-<p>
-Although I may have wandered far from the main path and taken the patient
-reader into devious byways, I feel I have accomplished what I set out to
-do in the beginning: I have explained how Dabney Prentiss came to be our
-representative in the Lower House of the National Congress. The task is
-done, yet I feel that I should not conclude the chapter until I have
-repeated a short passage of words between Sergeant Jimmy Bagby and that
-delegate from Mims County who was a distant kinsman of Major Guest. It
-happened just after the convention, having finished its work, had
-adjourned, and while the delegates and the spectators were emerging from
-the Marshallville opera house.
-</p>
-<p>
-All jubilant and excited now, the Mims County man came charging up and
-slapped Sergeant Bagby upon the shoulder.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, suh.” he clarioned, “the old Jedge did come back, didn't he?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Buddy,” said Sergeant Bagby, “you was wrong before and you're wrong
-ag'in. He didn't have to come back, because he ain't never been gone
-nowheres.”
- </p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-IV. A CHAPTER FROM THE LIFE OF AN ANT
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>OMEONE said once—the rest of us subsequently repeating it on
-occasion—that this world is but an ant hill, populated by many
-millions of ants, which run about aimlessly or aimfully as the case may
-be. All of which is true enough. Seek you out some lofty eminence, such as
-the top floor of a skyscraper or the top of a hill, and from it, looking
-down, consider a crowded city street at noon time or a county fairground
-on the day of the grand balloon ascension. Inevitably the simile will
-recur to the contemplative mind.
-</p>
-<p>
-The trouble, though, with the original coiner of the comparison was that
-he did not go far enough. He should have said the world was populated by
-ants—and by anteaters. For so surely as we find ants, there, too, do
-we find the anteaters. You behold the ants bustling about, making
-themselves leaner trying to make them-selves fatter; terrifically busied
-with their small affairs; hiving up sustenance against the hard winter;
-gnawing, digging and delving; climbing, crawling, building and breeding—in
-short, deporting themselves with that energy, that restless industry which
-so stirred the admiration of the Prophet of old that, on his heavenward
-pilgrimage, he tarried long enough to tell the sluggard—name of the
-sluggard not given in the chronicles—to go to the ant and consider
-of her.
-</p>
-<p>
-The anteater for the moment may not actually be in sight, but be assured
-he is waiting. He is waiting around the corner until the ant has
-propagated in numbers amounting to an excess; or, in other words, until
-the class that is born every second, singly—and sometimes as twins—has
-grown plentiful enough to furnish a feasting. Forth he comes then,
-gobbling up Brer Ant, along with his fullness and his richness, his heirs
-and his assigns, his substance and his stock in trade.
-</p>
-<p>
-To make the illustration concrete, we might say that were there no ants
-there would be no Wall Street; and by the same token were there no
-anteaters there would be no Wall Street either. Without anteaters the ants
-would multiply and replenish the earth beyond computation. Without ants
-the anteaters would have to live upon each other—which would be bad
-for them but better for the rest of creation. War is the greatest of the
-anteaters—it feeds upon the bodies of the ants. Kings upon their
-thrones, devisers of false doctrines, crooked politicians, grafters, con
-men, card sharks, thimbleriggers—all these are anteaters battening
-on the substance of simple-hearted, earnest-minded ants. The ant believes
-what you tell him; the greedsome anteater thrives upon this credulity.
-Roughly, then, for purposes of classification, one may divide the world at
-large into two groups—in this larger group here the ants, in that
-smaller group there the anteaters.
-</p>
-<p>
-So much, for purposes of argument, being conceded, we may safely figure
-Emanuel Moon as belonging in the category of the ants, pure and simple—reasonably
-pure and undeniably simple. However, at the time whereof I write I doubt
-whether it had ever occurred to anyone to liken him to an ant. His mother
-had called him Mannie, his employers called him plain Moon, and to
-practically everybody else he was just little Mr. Moon, who worked in the
-Commonwealth Bank. He had started there, in the bank, as office boy; by
-dint of years of untiring fidelity to the interests of that institution he
-had worked up to the place of assistant cashier, salary seventy-five
-dollars a month. Privately he nursed an ambition to become, in time,
-cashier, with a cashier's full powers. It might be added that in this
-desire he stood practically alone.
-</p>
-<p>
-Emanuel Moon was a little man, rising of thirty-five, who believed that
-the Whale swallowed Jonah, that if you swore a certain form of oath you
-were certain of hell-fire, and that Mr. Hiram Blair, president of the
-Commonwealth Bank, hung the Big Dipper. If the Bible had put it the other
-way round he would have believed as sincerely that it was Jonah who
-swallowed the Whale. He had a wistful, bashful little smile, an air of
-being perpetually busy, and a round, mild eye the colour of a boiled
-oyster. He also had a most gentle manner and the long, prehensile upper
-lip that is found only in the South American tapir and the confirmed
-clarinet player. Emanuel Moon had one besetting sin, and only one—he
-just would play the clarinet.
-</p>
-<p>
-On an average of three nights a week he withdrew himself from the company
-assembled about the base-burner stove in the parlour if it were winter, or
-upon the front porch of Mrs. Teenie Morrill's boarding house if it were
-seasonable weather, and went up to his room on the third floor and played
-the clarinet. Some said he played it and some that he merely played at it.
-He knew Annie Laurie off by heart and for a term of years had been
-satisfied in that knowledge. Now he was learning another air—The
-Last Rose of Summer.
-</p>
-<p>
-He prosecuted his musical education on what he called his off evenings.
-Wednesday night he went to prayer meeting and Sunday night to the regular
-church service. Tuesday night he always spent at his lodge; and perhaps
-once in a fortnight he called upon Miss Katie Rouser, who taught in the
-High School and for whom he was believed to entertain sentiments that did
-him credit, even though he had never found words in which to voice them.
-</p>
-<p>
-At the lodge he served on the committees which did the hard work; that, as
-a general proposition, meant also the thankless work. If things went well
-someone else took the credit; if they went ill Emanuel and his colabourers
-shared the blame. The conditions had always been so—when he was a
-small boy and when he was a youth, growing up. In his adolescence, if
-there was a picnic in contemplation or a straw ride or a barm dance,
-Mannie had been graciously permitted by common consent of all concerned to
-arrange with the livery-stable man for the teams, to hire the coloured
-string band, to bargain with the owner of the picnic grounds or the barn,
-to see to ice for the ice-water barrel and lemons for the lemonade bucket.
-</p>
-<p>
-While he thus busied himself the other youths made dates for the occasion
-with all the desirable girls. Hence it was that on the festal date Emanuel
-went partnerless to the party; and this was just as well, too, seeing that
-right up until the time of starting he would be completely occupied with
-last-moment details, and, after that, what with apologising for any
-slipups that might have occurred, and being scolded and ordered about on
-errands and called upon to explain this or that, would have small time to
-play the squire to any young person of the opposite sex, even had there
-been one convenient.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was so at the bank, where he did more work than anybody and got less
-pay than anybody. It was so, as I have just stated, at the lodge. In a
-word, Emanuel had no faculty as an executive, but an enormous capacity for
-executing. The earth is full of him. Whereever five or more are gathered
-together there is present at least one of the Emanuel Moons of this world.
-</p>
-<p>
-It had been a hot, long summer, even for a climate where the summers are
-always long and nearly always hot; and at the fag end of it Emanuel
-inclined strongly toward a desire for a short rest. Diffidently he managed
-to voice his mood and his need to Mr. Blair. That worthy gentleman had but
-just returned home, a giant refreshed, after a month spent in the North
-Carolina mountains. He felt so fit, so fine, so robust, he took it as a
-personal grievance that any about him should not likewise be feeling fit.
-He cut Emanuel off pretty short. Vacations, he intimated, were for those
-whose years and whose services in behalf of humanity entitled them to
-vacations; young men who expected to get along in business had best rid
-their thoughts of all such pampered hankerings.
-</p>
-<p>
-Emanuel took the rebuke in good grace, as was his way; but that evening at
-the supper table he created some excitement among his fellow boarders by
-quietly and unostentatiously fainting, face forward, into a saucer of pear
-preserves that was mostly juice. He was removed to his room and put to
-bed, and attended by Doctor Lake. The next morning he was not able to go
-to the bank. On being apprised of the situation Mr. Blair very
-thoughtfully abated of his previous resolution and sent Emanuel word that
-he might have a week or even ten days off—at his own expense—wherein
-to recuperate.
-</p>
-<p>
-Some thirty-six hours later, therefore, Emanuel might have been found on
-board the fast train bound for Louisville, looking a trifle pulled down
-and shaky, but filled with a great yearning. In Louisville, at a certain
-establishment doing a large mail-order business, was to be had for
-thirty-eight dollars, list price, fifteen and five off for cash, a
-clarinet that was to his present infirm and leaky clarinet as minted gold
-is to pot metal.
-</p>
-<p>
-To be sure, this delectable instrument might be purchased, sight unseen,
-but with privilege of examination, through the handy medium of the parcel
-post; the house handling it was in all respects reliable and lived up to
-the printed promise of the catalogue, but to Emanuel half the pride and
-pleasure of becoming its proprietor lay in going into the place and asking
-to see such and such a clarinet, and fingering it and testing its tone,
-and finally putting down the money and carrying it off with him under his
-arm. He meant, first of all, to buy his new clarinet; for the rest his
-plans were hazy. He might stay on in Louisville a few days or he might go
-elsewhere. He might even return home and spend the remainder of his
-vacation perfecting himself in his still faulty rendition of The Last Rose
-of Summer.
-</p>
-<p>
-For an hour or so after boarding the train he viewed the passing scenery
-as it revealed itself through the day-coach window and speculated
-regarding the personalities of his fellow passengers. After that hour or
-so he began to nod. Presently he slumbered, with his head bobbing against
-the seat-back and one arm dangling in the aisle. A sense of being touched
-half roused him; a moment later he opened his eyes with the feeling that
-he had lost his hat or was about to lose it. Alongside him stood a
-well-dressed man of, say, thirty-eight or forty, who regarded him
-cordially and who held between the long, slender fingers of his right hand
-a little rectangle of blue cardboard, having punch marks in it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Excuse me, friend,” said this man, “but didn't this fall out of your hat?
-I picked it up here on the floor alongside you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I reckon maybe it did,” said Emanuel, removing his hat and noticing that
-the customary decoration conferred by the conductor was absent from its
-band. “I'm certainly much obliged to you, sir.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Don't mention it,” said the stranger. “Bet-ter stick it in good and tight
-this time. They might try to collect a second fare from you if you
-couldn't show your credentials. Remember, don't you, the story about the
-calf that ate up his express tag and what the old nigger man said about
-it?”
- </p>
-<p>
-The stranger's accent stamped him as a Northerner; his manner revealed him
-indubitably as a man of the world—withal it was a genial manner. He
-bestowed a suit case alongside in the aisle and slipped into the seat
-facing Emanuel. Emanuel vaguely felt flattered. It had promised to be
-rather a lonely journey.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You don't mind my sitting here a bit, do you?” added the man after he was
-seated.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Not at all—glad to have you,” said Emanuel, meaning it. “Nice
-weather—if it wasn't so warm,” he continued, making conversation.
-</p>
-<p>
-It started with the weather; but you know how talk runs along. At the end
-of perhaps ten minutes it had somehow worked around to amusements—checkers
-and chess and cards.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Speaking of cards now,” said the stranger, “I like a little game once in
-a while myself. Helps the time to pass away when nothing else will. Fact
-is, I usually carry a deck along with me just for that purpose. Fact is,
-I've got a new deck with me now, I think.” He fumbled in the breast pocket
-of his light flannel coat and glanced about him. “Tell you what—suppose
-we play a few hands of poker—show-down, you know—for ten cents
-a corner, say, or a quarter? We could use my suit case for a card table by
-resting it on our knees between us.” He reached out into the aisle.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I'm much obliged,” said Emanuel with an indefinable sense of pain at
-having to decline so friendly an invitation; “but, to tell you the truth,
-I make it a point never to touch cards at all. It wouldn't do—in my
-position. You see, I'm in a bank at home.”
- </p>
-<p>
-With newly quickened alertness the stranger's eyes narrowed. He put the
-cards back into his pocket and straightened up attentively. “Oh, yes,” he
-said, “I see. Well, that being the case, I don't blame you.” Plainly he
-had not been hurt by Emanuel's refusal to join in so innocent a pastime as
-dealing show-down hands at ten cents a side. On the contrary he warmed
-visibly. “A young man in a bank can't be too careful—especially if
-it's a small town, where everybody knows everybody else's business. You
-let a young fellow that works in a bank in a small town, or even a
-medium-sized town, play a few hands of poker and, first thing you know,
-it's all over the place that he's gambling and they've got an expert on
-his books. Let's see now—where was it you said you lived?” Emanuel
-told him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, now, that's a funny thing! I used to know a man in your town. Let's
-see—what was his name? Parker? Parsons?” He paused. Emanuel shook
-his head.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Perkins? Perkins? Could it have been Perkins?” essayed the other
-tentatively, his eyes fixed keenly on the ingenuous countenance of his
-opposite; and then, as Emanuel's head nodded forward affirmatively: “Why,
-that's the name—Perkins,” proclaimed the stranger with a little
-smile of triumph.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Probably J. W. Perkins,” said Emanuel. “Mr. J. W. Perkins is our leading
-hardware merchant. He banks with us; I see him every day—pretty near
-it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No; not J. W. Perkins,” instantly confessed his companion. “That's the
-name all right enough, but not the initials. Didn't this Mr. Perkins have
-a brother, or a cousin or something, who died?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, I know who you mean, now,” said Emanuel, glad to be able to help with
-the identification. “Alfred Perkins—he died two years ago this
-coming October.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“How old was he?” The Northerner had the air about him of being determined
-to make sure.
-</p>
-<p>
-“About fifty, I judge—maybe fifty-two or three.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And didn't they use to call him Al for short?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes; nearly everybody did—Mr. Al Perkins.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That's the party,” agreed the other. “Al Perkins! I knew him well.
-Strange, now, that I can't think where it was I met him—I move round
-so much in my business, being on the road as a travelling man, it's hard
-keeping track of people; but I know we spent a week or two together
-somewhere or other. Speaking of names, mine is Caruthers—John P.
-Caruthers. Sorry I haven't got a card with me—I ran out of cards
-yesterday.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Mine,” said our townsman, “is Emanuel Moon.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Glad to know you, Mr. Moon,” said Mr. Caruthers as he sought Emanuel's
-right hand and shook it heartily.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Very glad indeed. You don't meet many people of your name—Oh, by
-Jove, that's another funny thing!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What?” said Emanuel.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Why,” said Mr. Caruthers, “I used to have a pal—a good friend—with
-your name; Robert Moon it was. He lived in Detroit, Michigan. Fine fellow,
-Bob was. I wonder could old Bob Moon have been your cousin?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No,” said Emanuel almost regretfully; “I'm afraid not. All my people live
-South, so far as I know.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, anyhow, you'd enjoy knowing old Bob,” went on the companionable Mr.
-Caruthers. “Have a smoke?”
- </p>
-<p>
-He produced both cigars and cigarettes. Emanuel said he never smoked, so
-Mr. Caruthers lighted a cigar.
-</p>
-<p>
-Up to this point the conversation had been more or less general. Now,
-somehow, it took a rather personal and direct trend. Mr. Caruthers proved
-to be an excellent listener, although he asked quite a number of leading
-questions as they went along. He evinced a kindly curiosity regarding
-Emanuel's connection with the bank. He was interested in banks, it seemed;
-his uncle, now deceased, had been, he said, a very prominent banker in
-Springfield, Massachusetts.
-</p>
-<p>
-Emanuel had a rôle that was new to him; a pleasing rôle though. Nearly
-always in company he had to play audience; now he held the centre of the
-stage, with another listening to what he might say, and, what was more,
-listening with every sign of, deep attention. He spoke at length, Emanuel
-did, of the bank, its size, its resources, its liabilities, its physical
-appearance and its personnel, leading off with its president and scaling
-down to its black janitor. He referred to Mr. Blair's crustiness of manner
-toward persons of lesser authority, which manner, he hastened to explain,
-was quite all right if you only understood Mr. Blair's little ways.
-</p>
-<p>
-He mentioned in passing that Herb Kivil, the cashier, was addicted to
-tennis, and that on Tuesdays and Fridays, when Herb left early to play
-tennis, he, Moon, closed up the vault and took over certain other duties
-which ordinarily fell to Herb. From the bank he progressed by natural
-stages to Mrs. Morrill's boarding house and from there to his own
-individual tastes and likings. In this connection it was inevitable that
-the subject of clarinet playing should obtrude. Continuing along this
-strain Emanuel felt moved to disclose his principal object in journeying
-to Louisville at this particular time.
-</p>
-<p>
-“There's a store there that carries a clarinet that I'm sort of interested
-in,” he stated—but got no farther, for here Mr. Caruthers broke in
-on him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, sir, it's a mighty little world after all,” he exclaimed. “First
-you drop your punch check out of your hat and I come along and pick it up,
-and I sit down here and we get acquainted. Then I find out that I used to
-know a man in your town—Abner Perkins.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Alfred,” corrected Mr. Moon gently.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Sure—Alfred Perkins. That's what I meant to say but my tongue
-slipped. Then you tell me your name, and it turns out I've got a good
-friend that, if he's not your own cousin, ought to be on account of the
-name being the same. One coincidence right after another! And then, on top
-of all that, you tell me you want to buy a new clarinet. And that's the
-most curious part of it all, because—— Say, Moon, you must
-have heard of Galling & Moore, of Boston, New York, and Paris,
-France.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I can't say as I ever did. I don't seem to place them,” admitted Emanuel.
-</p>
-<p>
-“If you're interested in a clarinet you ought to know about them, because
-Gatling & Moore are just the biggest wholesale dealers in musical
-instruments in the United States; that's all—just the whole United
-States. And I—the same fellow that's sitting right here facing you—I
-travel this territory for Gatling & Moore. Didn't I say this was a
-small world?”
- </p>
-<p>
-A small world indeed—and a cozily comfortable one as well, seeing
-that by its very compactness one was thrown into contact with so pleasing
-a personality as this Mr. John Caruthers betrayed. This was the thought
-that exhilarated Mr. Emanuel Moon as he answered:
-</p>
-<p>
-“You sell clarinets? Then you can tell me exactly what I ought to pay—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No; don't get me wrong,” Mr. Caruthers hastened to explain. “I said I
-travelled for Gatling & Moore. You see, they sell everything, nearly—musical
-instruments is just one of their lines. I handle—er—sporting
-goods—playing cards, poker chips, guns, pistols, athletic supplies;
-all like that, you understand. That's my branch of the business; musical
-goods is another branch.
-</p>
-<p>
-“But what I was going to suggest was this: Izzy Gottlieb, who's the head
-of the musical department in the New York office, is one of the best
-friends I've got on this earth. If I was to walk in and say to Izzy—yes,
-even if I was to write in to him and tell him I had a friend who was
-figuring on buying a clarinet—I know exactly what old Izzy would do.
-Izzy would just naturally turn the whole shop upside down until he found
-the niftiest little old clarinet there was in stock, and as a favour to me
-he'd let us have it at just exactly cost. That's what good old Izzy would
-do in a blooming minute. Altogether it ought to come to about half what
-you'd pay for the identical same article out of a retail place down in
-this country.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But could you, sir—would you be willing to do that much for a
-stranger?” Stress of emotion made Emanuel's voice husky.
-</p>
-<p>
-“If you don't believe I would do just that very thing, why, a dime'll win
-you a trip to the Holy Land!” answered back the engaging Caruthers
-beamingly and enthusiastically.
-</p>
-<p>
-Then his tone grew earnest: “Listen here, Moon: no man that I take a
-liking to is a stranger to me—not any more. And I've got to own up
-to it—I like you. You're my kind of a man—frank, open, on the
-level; and yet not anybody's easy mark either. I'll bet you're a pretty
-good hand at sizing up people offhand yourself. Oh, I knew you'd do, the
-minute I laid eyes on you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Thank you; much obliged,” murmured Emanuel. To all intents he was
-overcome.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Now, then,” continued his new-found friend warmly, “let me suggest this:
-You go ahead and look at the clarinet that this piking Louisville
-concern's got for sale if you want to, but don't buy. Just look—there's
-no harm in that. But don't invest.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I'm on my way back to New York now to—to lay in my new lines for
-the trade. I'll see old Izzy the first thing after I blow in and I'll get
-the niftiest clarinet that ever played a tune—get it at actual cost,
-mind you! I'll stick it down into one of my trunks and bring it back with
-me down this way.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Let's see”—he consulted a small memorandum book—“I ought to
-strike this territory again in about ten days or two weeks. We'll make it
-two weeks, to be sure. Um—this is Wednesday. I'll hit your town on
-Tuesday, the twenty-ninth—that's two weeks from yesterday. I ought
-to get in from Memphis sometime during the afternoon. I'll come to your
-bank to find you. You're always there on Tuesdays, ain't you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, yes,” said Emanuel. “Don't you remember my telling you that on
-Tuesdays Herb Kivil always left early to play tennis and I closed up?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“So you did,” confirmed Mr. Caruthers. “I'd forgotten your telling me
-that.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“For that matter,” supplemented Emanuel, “I'm there every day till three
-anyhow, and sometimes later; so if—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“We'll make it Tuesday, the twenty-ninth, to be sure,” said Mr. Caruthers
-with an air of finality.
-</p>
-<p>
-“If you should want the money now—” began Emanuel; and he started to
-haul out the little flat leather purse with the patent clasp wherein he
-carried his carefully saved cash assets.
-</p>
-<p>
-With a large, generous gesture the other checked him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Hold on!” counselled Caruthers. “You needn't be in such a hurry, old boy.
-I don't even know what the thing is going to cost yet. Izzy'll charge it
-to me on the books and then you can settle with me when I bring it to you,
-if that's satisfactory.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He stood up, carefully flicking some cigar ashes off the trailing ends of
-his four-in-hand tie, and glanced at a watch.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, it's nearly six o'clock. Time flies when a fellow is in good
-company, don't it? We'll be in Louisville in less than an hour, won't we?—if
-we're on time. I've got to quit you there; I'm going on to Cincy to-night.
-Tell you what—let's slip into the diner and have a bite and a little
-nip of something together first—I want to see as much of you as I
-can. You take a little drink once in a while, don't you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I drink a glass of light beer occasionally,” admitted Emanuel.
-</p>
-<p>
-Probably in his whole life he had consumed as much as five commercial
-quarts of that liquid, half a pint at a time.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Fine business!” said Caruthers. “Beer happens to be my regular stand-by
-too. Come on, then.” And he led the way forward for the transported
-Emanuel.
-</p>
-<p>
-They said at the bank and at the boarding house that Moon looked better
-for his week's lay-off, none of them knowing, of course, what had come
-into the little man's dun-coloured life.
-</p>
-<p>
-On the twenty-eighth of the month he was so abstracted that Mr. Blair,
-desiring his presence for the moment in the president's office, had to
-call him twice, a thing which so annoyed Mr. Blair that the second time he
-fairly shouted Emanuel's name; and when Emanuel came hurrying into his
-presence inquired somewhat acidly whether Emanuel was suffering from any
-auricular affection. On the morning of the twenty-ninth Emanuel was in
-quite a little fever of anticipation. The morning passed; the noon or
-dinner hour arrived and passed.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was one-thirty. The street drowsed in the early autumnal sunshine, and
-in front of his bookstore, in a tilted-back chair, old Mr. Wilcox for a
-spell slumbered audibly. There is a kind of dog—not so numerous
-since automobiles have come into such general and fatal use—that
-sought always the middle of the road as a suitable spot to take a nap in,
-arousing with a yelp when wheels or hoofs seemed directly over him and,
-having escaped annihilation by an eighth of an inch, moving over perhaps
-ten feet and lying down again in the perilous pathway of traffic. One of
-this breed slept now, undisturbed except by flies, at the corner of Front
-and Franklin. For the time being he was absolutely safe. Emanuel had been
-to his dinner and had returned. He was beginning to worry. About
-two-thirty, just after the cashier had taken his tennis racket and gone
-for the day, Emanuel answered a ring at the telephone.
-</p>
-<p>
-Over the wire there came to him the well-remembered sound of the blithe
-Carutherian voice:
-</p>
-<p>
-“That you, old man?” spake Mr. Caruthers jovially. “Well, I'm here,
-according to promise. Just got in from down the road.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Did—you—bring—it?” inquired Emanuel, almost
-tremulously.
-</p>
-<p>
-“The clarinet? You bet your life I brought it—and she's a bird too.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'm ever so much obliged,” said Emanuel. “I don't know how I can ever
-thank you—going to all that trouble on my account. Are you at the
-hotel? I'll be over there just as soon as I can close up—I can't
-leave here till three.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Stay right where you are,” bade his friend. “I'll be over to see you
-inside of fifteen or twenty minutes.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He was as good as his word. At ten minutes before three he walked in, the
-mould of city fashion in all his outward aspects; and when Emanuel had
-disposed of Mr. Herman Felsburg, who dropped in to ask what Felsburg
-Brothers' balance was, and when Mr. Felsburg had gone, Caruthers' right
-hand and Emanuel's met in an affectionate clasp across the little shelf of
-the cashier's window. Followed then an exchange of inquiries and
-assurances touching on the state of health and well-being of each
-gentleman.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I'd like mightily to ask you inside,” said Emanuel next, anxious to
-extend all possible hospitalities; “but it's strictly against the rules.
-Take a chair there, won't you, and wait for me—I'll be only a few
-minutes or so.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Instead of taking one of the row of chairs that stood in the front of the
-old-fashioned bank, Mr. Caruthers paused before the wicket, firing
-metropolitan pleasantries across at the little man, who bustled about
-inside the railed-off inclosure, putting books and papers in their proper
-places.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Everybody's gone but me, as it happens,” he explained, proud to exhibit
-to Mr. Caruthers the extent and scope of his present responsibilities.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Nobody on deck but you, eh?” said Caruthers, looking about him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Nobody but me,” answered back Emanuel; “and in about a minute and a half
-I'll be through too.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The cash was counted. He carried it into the depths of the ancient and
-cumbersome vault, which blocked off a section of the wall behind the
-cashier's desk, and in their appointed niches bestowed, also, certain
-large ledgerlike tomes. He closed and locked the inner steel door and was
-in the act of swinging to the heavy outer door.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Look here a minute!” came sharply from Mr. Caruthers.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was like a command. Obeying involuntarily, Emanuel faced about. From
-under his coat, where it had been hidden against his left side, Mr.
-Caruthers, still standing at the wicket, was drawing forth something long
-and black and slim, and of a most exceeding shininess—something with
-silver trimmings on it and a bell mouth—a clarinet that was all a
-clarinet should be, and yet a half brother to a saxophone.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I sort of thought you'd be wanting to get a flash at it right away,” said
-Mr. Caruthers, holding the magnificent instrument up in plain sight. “So I
-brought it along—for a surprise.”
- </p>
-<p>
-With joy Emanuel Moon's round eyes widened and moistened. After the
-fashion of a rabbit suddenly confronted with lettuce his lower face
-twitched. His overhanging upper lip quivered to wrap itself about that
-virgin mouthpiece, as his fingers itched to fondle that slender polished
-fountain of potential sweet melodies. And he forgot other things.
-</p>
-<p>
-He came out from behind the counter and almost with reverence took the
-splendid thing from the smiling Mr. Caruthers. He did remember to lock the
-street door as they issued to the sidewalk; but from that juncture on,
-until he discovered himself with Caruthers in Caruthers' room on the third
-floor of the hotel, diagonally across the street and down the block from
-the bank, and was testing the instrument with soft, tentative toots and
-finding to his extreme gratification that this clarinet bleated, not in
-sheeplike bleats, as his old one did, but rather mooed in a deep bass
-voice suggestive of cows, all that passed was to Mr. Moon but a confused
-blur of unalloyed joyousness.
-</p>
-<p>
-Indeed, from that point thenceforward he was not quite sure of anything
-except that, over his protests, Mr. Caruthers declined to accept any
-reimbursement whatsoever for the cost of the new clarinet, he explaining
-that, thanks to the generosity of that kindly soul, Izzy Gottlieb, the
-requisite outlay had amounted to so trifling a sum as not to be worthy of
-the time required for further discussion; and that, following this, he
-played Annie Laurie all the way through, and essayed the first bars of The
-Last Rose of Summer, while Mr. Caruthers sat by listening and smoking, and
-seemingly gratified to the utmost at having been the means of bringing
-this pleasure to Mr. Moon.
-</p>
-<p>
-If Mr. Caruthers was moved, in chance intervals, to ask certain questions
-touching upon the banking business, with particular reference to the
-methods employed in conducting and safeguarding the Commonwealth Bank,
-over the way, Emanuel doubtlessly answered him full and truthfully, even
-though his thoughts for the moment were otherwise engaged.
-</p>
-<p>
-In less than no time at all—so it appeared to Emanuel—six
-o'clock arrived, which in our town used to mean the hour for hot supper,
-except on Sunday, when it meant the hour for cold supper; and Emanuel
-reluctantly got up to go. But Caruthers would not listen to any
-suggestions of their parting for yet a while. Exigencies of business would
-carry him on his lonesome way the next morning; he had just stopped over
-to see Emanuel, anyway, and naturally he wished to enjoy as much of his
-society as was possible during a sojourn so brief.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Moon,” he ordered, “you stay right where you are. We'll have something to
-eat together here. I'll call a waiter and we'll have it served up here in
-this room, so's we can be sort of private and sociable, and afterward you
-can play your clarinet some more. How does that little programme strike
-you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-It struck Emanuel agreeably hard. It was rarely that he dined out, and to
-dine under such circumstances as these, in the company of so fascinating
-and so kindly a gentleman as Mr. John P. Caruthers, of the North—well,
-his cup was simply overflowing, that's all.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I'd be glad to stay,” he said, “if you don't think I'm imposing on your
-kindness. I was thinking of asking you to go to Mrs. Morrill's with me for
-supper—if you would.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“We can have a better time here,” said Caruthers. He stepped over to the
-wall telephone. “Have a cocktail first? No? Then neither will I. But a
-couple of bottles of beer won't hurt us—will it?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Emanuel was going to say a small glass of beer was as much as he ever
-imbibed at a sitting, but before he could frame the statement Caruthers
-was giving the order.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was at the close of a most agreeable meal when Emanuel, following Mr.
-Caruthers' invitation and example, had emptied his second glass of beer and
-was in the act of putting down the tumbler, that a sudden sensation of
-drowsiness assailed his senses. He bent back in his chair, shaking his
-head to clear it of the mounting dizziness, and started to say he believed
-he would step to the window for a breath of fresh air. But, because he
-felt so very comfortable, he changed his mind. His head lolled over on one
-side and his lids closed down on his heavy eyes. Thereafter a blank
-ensued.
-</p>
-<p>
-When Emanuel awoke there was a flood of sunshine about him. For a moment
-he regarded an unfamiliar pattern of wall paper, the figures of which
-added to their unfamiliarity by running together curiously; he was in a
-strange bed, fully dressed, and as he moved his head on the rumpled pillow
-he realised that he had a splitting headache and that a nasty dryish taste
-was in his mouth. He remembered then where he was and what had happened,
-and sat up with a jerk, uttering a little remorseful moan.
-</p>
-<p>
-The disordered room was empty. Caruthers was gone and Caruthers' suit case
-was gone too. Something rustled, and a folded sheet of hotel note paper
-slid off the bed cover and fell upon the floor. With trembling fingers he
-reclaimed the paper, and, opening it, he read what was scrawled on it in
-pencil:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Dear Old Scout: I'm sorry! I didn't suppose one bottle of beer would put
-you down and out. When you took the count all of a sudden, I figured the
-best thing to do was to let you sleep it off; so I got you into the bed.
-You've been right there all night and nobody's any the wiser for it except
-me. Sorry I couldn't wait until you woke up, but I have to catch the up
-train; so I've paid my bill and I'm beating it as soon as I write this.
-Your clarinet is with you. Think of me sometimes when you tootle on it.
-I'll let you hear from me one of these days.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yours in haste,
-</p>
-<h3>
-“J. P. C.
-</h3>
-<p>
-“P. S. If I were you I'd stay off the beer in future.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The up train? Why, that left at eight-forty-five! Surely it could not be
-that late! Emanuel got out his old silver watch, a legacy from a long-dead
-sire, and took one look at its two hands; and then in a quiver of haste,
-with no thought of breakfast or of his present state of unwashed
-untidiness, with no thought of anything except his precious clarinet,
-which he tucked under his coat, he let himself out of the door, leaving
-the key in the lock, and slipping through the deserted hallway he hastened
-down two flights of stairs; and taking a short cut that saved crossing the
-lobby, where inquisitive eyes might behold him in all his unkemptness and
-distress, he emerged from the side door of the Hotel Moderne.
-</p>
-<p>
-Emanuel had proper cause to hurry. Never in all his years of service for
-the Commonwealth Bank had he failed to be on hand at eight o'clock to sort
-out the mail; and if his watch was to be believed here it was a quarter of
-nine! As he padded across the street on shaky legs a new apprehension that
-he had come away the day before without locking the combination of the
-vault smote him. Suppose—suppose something was wrong!
-</p>
-<p>
-The street door of the Commonwealth stood open, and though the interior
-seemed deserted he realised, with a sinking of the heart, that someone had
-arrived before him. He darted inside, dropped the clarinet out of sight in
-a cuddy under his desk, and fairly threw himself at the vault.
-</p>
-<p>
-The outer door was closed and locked, as it should be. Nevertheless, his
-hands shook so that he could hardly work the mechanism. Finally, the
-tumblers obeyed him, and he swung open the thick twin slabs, unlocked the
-inner door with the key which he carried along with other keys on his key
-ring—and then fetched a sigh of relief that was half a sob.
-Everything was as it should be—cash, paper money, books, files and
-securities. As he backed out of the vault the door of the president's
-office opened and Mr. Blair stood there in the opening, confronting him
-with an accusing glare.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Young man,” said Mr. Blair, “you're late!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, sir,” said Emanuel. “I'm very sorry, sir. I must have overslept.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“So I judge!” Mr. Blair's accents were ominous. “So I judge, young man—but
-where?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“W-where?” Emanuel, burning with shame, stammered the word.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes, sir; that's what I said—where? Twenty minutes ago I telephoned
-to Mrs. Morrill's to find out what was keeping you from your duties, and
-they told me you hadn't been in all night—that your bed hadn't been
-slept in.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, sir; I slept out.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I gathered as much.” Mr. Blair's long white chin whiskers quivered as Mr.
-Blair's condemning eyes comprehended the shrinking figure before him from
-head to foot—the rumpled hair; the bloodshot eyes; the wrinkled
-clothes; the soiled collar; the skewed necktie; the fluttering hands.
-“Look here, young man; have you been drinking?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No, sir—yes, sir; that is, I—I had a little beer last night,”
- owned Emanuel miserably.
-</p>
-<p>
-“A little beer, huh?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Mr. Blair, being popularly reputed to keep a private quart flask in his
-coat closet and at intervals to refresh himself therefrom behind the cover
-of the closet door, had a righteous contempt for wantons who publicly
-plied themselves with potables, whether of a malt, a spirituous or a
-vinous nature.
-</p>
-<p>
-“A little beer, huh?” He put tons of menace into the repetition of the
-words. “Forever and a day traipsing off on vacations seems to breed bad
-habits in you, Moon. Now, look here! This is the first time this ever
-happened—so far as I know. I am inclined to excuse it this once. But
-see to it that it doesn't happen again—ever!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No, sir,” said Emanuel gratefully. “It won't.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And it did not.
-</p>
-<p>
-So shaken was Emanuel as to his nerves that three whole nights elapsed
-before he felt equal to practicing on his new clarinet. After that,
-though, in all his spare moments at the boarding house he played
-assiduously.
-</p>
-<p>
-For the purposes of this narrative the passage of the ensuing fortnight is
-of no consequence. It passed, and that brings us to a Friday afternoon in
-mid-October. On the Friday afternoon in question the paymaster of the
-Great Western Crosstie Company deposited in the Commonwealth Bank, for
-overnight safeguarding, the funds to meet his semimonthly pay roll due to
-contractors, subcontractors, tow-boat owners and extra labourers, the
-total amounting to a goodly sum.
-</p>
-<p>
-Next morning, when Herb Kivil opened the vault, he took one look and
-uttered one strangled cry. As Emanuel straightened up from the mail he was
-sorting, and as Mr. Blair stepped in off the street, out from between the
-iron doors staggered Herb Kivil, white as a sheet and making funny sounds
-with his mouth. The vault was empty—stripped of cash on hand;
-stripped of the Great Western Company's big deposit; stripped of every
-scrap of paper money; stripped of everything except the bank books and
-certain securities—in a word, stripped of between eighteen and
-nineteen thousand dollars, specie and currency. For the thief, whoever he
-might be, there was one thing to be said—he had an instinct for
-thoroughness in his make-up.
-</p>
-<p>
-To say that the news, spreading with a most miraculous rapidity, made the
-town hum like a startled hive, is to state the case in the mildest of
-descriptive phrases. On the first alarm, the chief of police, accompanied
-by a good half of the day force, came at a dogtrot. Having severely
-questioned the frightened negro janitor, and examined all the doors and
-windows for those mysterious things known as clews, the chief gave it as
-his deliberate opinion that the robbery had been committed by some one who
-had means of access to the bank and its vault.
-</p>
-<p>
-Inasmuch as there was about the place no evidence of forcible entry, and
-inasmuch as the face of the vault was not so much as scratched, and
-inasmuch, finally, as the combination was in perfect order, the population
-at large felt constrained to agree that Chief Henley had deduced aright.
-He took charge of the premises for the time being, Mr. Blair having
-already wired to a St. Louis detective agency beseeching the immediate
-presence and aid of an expert investigator.
-</p>
-<p>
-It came out afterward that privily Mr. Blair suggested an immediate
-arrest, and gave to Henley the name of the person he desired to see taken
-into custody. But the chief, who was good-hearted—too good-hearted
-for his own good, some people thought—demurred. He stood in a deep
-and abiding awe of Mr. Blair. But he did not want to make any mistakes, he
-said. Anyhow, a big-city sleuth was due before night.. Would not Mr. Blair
-consent to wait until the detective had arrived and made his
-investigation? For his part, he would guarantee that the individual under
-suspicion did not get away. To his postponement of the decisive step Mr.
-Blair finally agreed.
-</p>
-<p>
-On the afternoon train over the Short line the expert appeared, an
-inscrutable gentleman named Fogarty with a drooping red moustache and a
-brow heavily wrinkled. This Mr. Fogarty first conferred briefly with Mr.
-Blair and with Chief Henley. Then, accompanied by these two and trailed by
-a distracted group of directors of the bank, he made a careful survey of
-the premises from the cellar coal hole to the roof scuttle, uttering not a
-single word the while. His manner was portentous. Following this he asked
-for a word in private with the head of the rifled institution.
-</p>
-<p>
-Leaving the others clustered in a group outside, he and Mr. Blair entered
-Mr. Blair's office. Mr. Fogarty closed the door and faced Mr. Blair.
-</p>
-<p>
-“This here,” said Mr. Fogarty, “was what we call an inside job. Somebody
-here in this town—somebody who knew all there was to know about your
-bank—done it. Now, who do you suspicion?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Lowering his voice, Mr. Blair told him, adding that only a deep sense of
-his obligations to himself and to his bank inspired him now to detail
-certain significant circumstances that had come to his personal attention
-within the past three weeks—or, to be exact, on a certain Wednesday
-morning in the latter part of September.
-</p>
-<p>
-In his earlier movements Mr. Fogarty might have been deliberate; but once
-he made up his mind to a definite course of conduct he acted promptly. He
-came out of Mr. Blair's presence, walked straight up to Emanuel Moon,
-where Emanuel sat at his desk, and, putting his hand on Emanuel's
-shrinking shoulder, uttered the words:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Young man, you're wanted! Put on your—”
- </p>
-<p>
-Then Mr. Fogarty silently turned and beckoned to Chief Henley, invoking
-the latter's official co-operation and assistance.
-</p>
-<p>
-Between the imported detective and the chief of police, Emanuel Moon, a
-silent, pitifully shrunken figure, walked round the corner to the City
-Hall, a crowd following along behind, and was locked up in a cell in the
-basement calaboose downstairs. Lingering about the hall after the suspect
-had been taken inside.
-</p>
-<p>
-Divers citizens ventured the opinion that if the fellow wasn't guilty he
-certainly looked it. Well, so far as that goes, if a face as pale as putty
-and downcast eyes brimming with a numbed misery betokened guilt Emanuel
-had not a leg left to stand on.
-</p>
-<p>
-However, looks alone are not commonly accepted as competent testimony
-under our laws, and Emanuel did not abide for very long as a prisoner. The
-Grand Jury declined to indict him on such dubious proof as the bank people
-and Mr. Fogarty could offer for its consideration. Undoubtedly the Grand
-Jury was inspired in its refusal by the attitude the Commonwealth's
-attorney maintained, an attitude in which the circuit judge concurred.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was known that Mr. Blair went to Commonwealth's Attorney Flournoy,
-practically demanding that Emanuel be held for trial, and, failing in that
-quarter, visited Judge Priest with the same object in view. But perversely
-the judge would not agree with Mr. Blair that the evidence in hand
-justified such a course; would not on any account concede that Emanuel
-Moon was the only person, really, who might properly be suspected.
-</p>
-<p>
-On that head he was as one with Prosecutor Flournoy. They held—these
-two—that possession of a costly musical instrument, regarding which
-the present owner would admit nothing except that it was a gift from an
-unknown friend, coupled with that individual's stubborn refusal to tell
-where he had spent a certain night and in whose company, did not
-constitute a fair presumption that he had made away with nearly nineteen
-thousand dollars.
-</p>
-<p>
-“But look here, Judge Priest,” hotly argued Mr. Blair upon the occasion of
-his call upon His Honour, “it stands to reason Moon is the thief. Why, it
-couldn't have been anybody else! And I want the facts brought out.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Whut facts have you got, Hiram?” asked the judge.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Moon knew the combination of the safe, didn't he? He carried the keys for
-the inside door of the safe, didn't he? And a key to the door of the
-building, too, didn't he?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Hiram,” countered Judge Priest, looking Mr. Blair straight in the eye,
-“ef you expect the authorities to go ahead on that kind of evidence I
-reckin we'd have to lock you up too.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Mr. Blair started as though a physical blow had been aimed at his head.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Why—why—— What do you mean by that, Judge?” he
-demanded, gripping the arms of his chair until his knuckles showed white
-through the skin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You carry the keys of the bank yourself, don't you? And you know the
-combination of the safe, don't you? And so does Herbie Kivil.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Do you mean to insinuate——”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Hiram, I don't mean to insinuate nothin'. Insinuations don't make the
-best of evidence in court, though I will admit they sometimes count for a
-good deal outside of court. No, Hiram; I reckin you and your detective
-friend from St. Louis will have to dig up somethin' besides your personal
-beliefs before you kin expect the Grand Jury of this county to lay a
-charge aginst a man who's always enjoyed a fair standin' in this here
-community. That's all I've got to say to you on the subject.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Taking the hint, Mr. Blair, red-faced and agitated, took his departure.
-After he was gone Judge Priest remained immersed in reflection for several
-hours.
-</p>
-<p>
-So Emanuel went free. But he might almost as well have stayed in jail, for
-the smell of it seemed to cling to his garments—garments that grew
-shabbier as the weeks passed, for naturally he did not go back to the bank
-and just as naturally no one cared to offer employment to one who had been
-accused by his late employer of a crime. He fell behind with his board at
-Mrs. Morrill's. He walked the streets with drooping shoulders and face
-averted, shunning people and shunned by them. And, though he kept to his
-room in the evening, he no longer played on his clarinet. And the looting
-of the Commonwealth Bank's vault continued, as the <i>Daily Evening News</i>
-more than once remarked, to be “shrouded in impenetrable mystery.”
- </p>
-<p>
-One evening at dusk, as Judge Priest was going home alone from the
-courthouse, on a back street he came face to face with Emanuel.
-</p>
-<p>
-The younger man would have passed by him without speaking, but the old man
-thrust his broad shape directly in the little man's course.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Son,” he said, putting a hand on the other's arm, “I want to have a
-little talk with you—ez a friend. Jest you furgit all about me bein'
-a judge. I wisht, ef you ain't got anythin' else to do, you'd come up to
-my house to-night after you've had your supper. Will you, son?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Emanuel, his eyes filling up, said he would come, and he did; and in the
-judge's old sitting-room they spent half an hour together. Father Minor
-always said that when it came to hearing confessions the only opposition
-he had in town came from a nonprofessional, meaning by that Judge Priest.
-It was one of Father Minor's little jokes.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And now, Judge Priest,” said Emanuel, at the latter end of the talk, “you
-know everything—why I wouldn't tell 'em how I got my new clarinet
-and where I spent that night. If I had to die for it I wouldn't bring
-suspicion on an innocent party. I haven't told anybody but you—you
-are the only one that knows.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You're shore this here friend of yourn—Caruthers—is an
-innocent party?” suggested the judge.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Why, Judge, he's bound to be—he's just naturally bound to be. If
-he'd been a thief he'd have robbed the bank that night when I was asleep
-in his room at the hotel. I had the keys to the bank on me and he knew
-it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Thai why didn't you come out and say so.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Because, as I just told you, it would be bringing suspicion on an
-innocent party. He holds a responsible position with that big New York
-firm I was telling you about and it might have got him into trouble.
-Besides”—and Emanuel hung his head—“besides, I hated so to
-have people know that I was ever under the influence of liquor. I'm a
-church member, Judge, as you know. I never drank—to excess—before
-that night, and I don't ever aim to touch another drop as long as I live.
-I'd almost as lief be called a drunkard as a thief. They're calling me a
-thief—I don't aim to have them calling me the other thing too.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest cloaked an involuntary smile behind a pudgy hand.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, Emanuel,” he said, “jest to be on the safe side, did it ever occur
-to you to make inquiry amongst the merchants here as to whether a
-travelling gent named Caruthers sold goods to any of 'em?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No, Judge; I never thought of that.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Did you look up Gatling & Moore—I believe that's the name—in
-Bradstreet's or Dun's to see ef there was sech a firm?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Judge, I never thought of that either.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Son,” said the old man, “it sorter looks to me like you ain't been doin'
-much thinkin' lately.” Then his tone changed and became warmly consoling.
-“But I reckin ef I was the trouble you're in I wouldn't do much thinkin'
-neither. Son, you kin rest easy in your mind—I ain't a-goin' to
-betray your confidences. But ef you don't mind I aim to do a little
-inquirin' round on my own account. This here robbery interests me
-powerfully, someway. I've been frettin' a heap about it lately.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And—oh, yes—there's another thing that I was purty nigh
-furgittin',” continued Judge Priest. “I ain't purposin' to pry into your
-personal affairs—but tell me, son, how are you off fur ready money
-these days?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Judge, to tell you the truth, I'm just about out of money,” confessed
-Emanuel desperately. “I owe Mrs. Morrill for three weeks' board now. I
-hate to keep putting her off—her being a widow lady and dependent
-for her living on what she takes in. I'd pack up and go somewhere else—to
-some other town—and try to get work, only I can't bear to go away
-with this cloud hanging over my good name. It would look like I was
-running away; and anyway I guess the tale would follow me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The judge dug into his right-hand trousers pocket. He exhumed a small wad
-of bills and began counting them off.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Son,” he said, “I know you won't mind my makin' you a temporary loan to
-help you along till things git brighter with you. By the way, how would
-you like to go to work in the circuit clerk's office?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Me, Judge! Me?” Fresh-kindled hope blazed an instant in Emanuel Moon's
-voice; then the spark died.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I reckon nobody would hire me,” he finished despondently.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Don't you be so shore. Lishy Milam come to me only yistiddy sayin' he
-needed a reliable and experienced man to help him with his books, and
-askin' me ef I could suggest anybody. He ain't had a capable deputy sense
-little Clint Coombs died on him. I sort of figger that ef he gave you a
-job on my say-so it'd go a mighty long way toward convincin' this town
-that we both regarded you ez an honest citizen. I'll speak to 'Lishy Milam
-the very first thing in the mornin'—ef you're agreeable to the
-notion.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Judge,” exclaimed Emanuel, up on his feet, “I can't thank you—I
-can't tell you what this means—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Son, don't try,” bade the old judge. “Anyhow, that ain't whut I want to
-hear frum you now. Set down there agin and tell me all you kin remember
-about this here friend of yourn—Caruthers; where you met up with him
-and whut he said and how he said it, and the way he looked and walked and
-talked. And how much beer you drunk up that night and how much he drunk
-up, and how you felt when you woke up, and whut Hiram Blair said to you
-when you showed up at the bank—the whole thing all over agin from
-start to finish. I'm interested in this here Mr. Caruthers. It strikes me
-he must 'a' been a mighty likely feller.”
- </p>
-<p>
-When Emanuel Moon walked out of Judge Priest's front door that night he
-was pumped dry. Also, for the first time in weeks, he walked with head
-erect and gaze straightforward.
-</p>
-<p>
-In the morning, true to his promise, Judge Priest made recommendations to
-Circuit Clerk Milam. This done, he left the courthouse and, going down
-Legal Row, dropped in at the law office of Fairleigh & Fairleigh, to
-find young Jere Fairleigh, junior member of the firm, sitting by the grate
-fire in the front room.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Jere,” asked Judge Priest, directly the young man had made him welcome,
-“whutever become of them three post-office robbers that hired you to
-defend 'em—still over in the Marshallville jail, ain't they?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Two of them are,” said young Fairleigh. “The one they call the Waco Baby
-got out on bail and skipped. But the other two—Frisco Slim and
-Montreal Red—are in jail over there awaiting trial at the next term
-of United States Court.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest smiled softly.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Young man,” he said, “it certainly looks to me like you're climbin'
-mighty fast in your chosen profession. All your clients 'pear to have
-prominent cities named alter 'em. Tell me,” he went on, “whut kind of
-persons are the two that are still lingerin' in Marshallville?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well,” said the young lawyer, “there's a world of difference between 'em.
-Frisco is the glum, morose kind; but Montreal Red—his real name is
-Mooney, he tells me, though he's got half a dozen other names—he's
-certainly a wise individual. Just associating with him in my capacity as
-his counsel has been a liberal education to me in the ways of the
-underworld. I firmly believe he knows every professional crook in the
-country.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Aha! I see,” said Judge Priest. “I figger Mister Montreal is the party I
-want to meet. I'm thinkin' of runnin' down to Marshallville on business
-right after dinner to-day. I reckin you wouldn't mind—in strict
-confidence—givin' me a little note of introduction to your client,
-tellin' him I seek his advice on a private matter, and sayin' that I kin
-be trusted?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'll be mighty glad to,” said Fairleigh, Junior, reaching across his desk
-for pen and paper. “I'll write it right now. Turning detective, Judge?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, son,” conceded Judge Priest, “you mout call it that and not make
-sech an awful big mistake.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Sort of a Sherlock Holmes, eh?”
- </p>
-<p>
-The judge made a gesture of modest disclaimer.
-</p>
-<p>
-“No; I reckin Sherlock would be out of my class. By all accounts Sherlock
-knowed purty nigh ever'thing wuth knowin'. If he'd struck two different
-trails, both seemin'ly p'intin' in the same direction, he'd know right off
-which one of 'em to take. That's where he'd be one pawpaw above my tallest
-persimmon. Sometimes I git to thinkin' I'm a poor purblind old idiot that
-can't see a thing when it's shoved right up under my nose. No; I ain't
-aspirin' none to qualify ez a Sherlock. I'm only endeavourin' to walk ez
-an humble disciple in the hallowed footsteps of Old Cap Collier.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What do you know about Old Cap Collier?” demanded Fairleigh, astonished.
-“I thought I was the only grown man in town that still read nickel
-libraries—on the sly.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Boy,” said Judge Priest, “you and me have got a secret bond between us.
-Wasn't that there last one that come out a jim-dandy?—the one called
-Old Cap Collier and the Great Diamond Robbery.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It was so,” stated Fairleigh. “I read it last night in bed.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Three o'clock of that same day disclosed Judge Priest perched on the side
-of a bunk in a cell in the Marshallville jail, close up alongside a blocky
-person of unkempt appearance whom we, for convenience, may call Montreal
-Red, more especially as this happens to be the title to which he commonly
-answered within the fraternity of which he was a distinguished member.
-</p>
-<p>
-They made a picture sitting there together—the old man, nursing his
-soft black hat between his hands, with the half light bringing out in
-relief his bald round skull, his chubby pink face and his tuft of white
-beard; the captive yeggman in his shirt sleeves, with no collar on and no
-shoes on, holding Mr. Fairleigh's note in his hand and, with the look upon
-his face of one who feels a just pride in his professional knowledge,
-hearkening while the Judge minutely described for him a certain
-individual. Before the Judge was done, Montreal Red interrupted him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Sufficiency, bo,” he said lightly; “you've said enough. I know the gun
-you're talkin' about without you goin' any farther—it's Shang
-Conklin, the Solitary Kid.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But this here gentleman went by the name of Caruthers!” demurred the
-Judge.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Wot else did you figure he'd be doin'?” countered Montreal Red. “He might
-'a' called himself Crowley, or Lord Copeleigh, or half a dozen other
-things. He might 'a' called himself the King of Bavaria—yes, and got
-away with it, too, because he's there with the swell front and the
-education. The Solitary Kid's got a different monniker for every day in
-the week and two for Sundays. It couldn't be nobody else but him; you've
-called the turn on him same as if you'd mugged him for the Gallery.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You know him personally, then?” asked Judge Priest.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Who don't know him?” said Montreal Red. “Everybody that knows anybody
-knows Solitary. And I'll tell you why! You take 'most any ordinary gun and
-he's got just one regular line—he's a stick-up, or he's a moll
-buzzer, or a peterman, or a con man; or he belongs to the hard-boiled
-people, the same as me. But Shang he doubles in brass; it's B. and O. for
-him. Bein' there with the front, he's worked the wire; and before that he
-worked the bat. Knowin' all there is to know about the pasteboard papes,
-he'd done deep-sea fishin' in his time—playin' for rich guys on the
-big liners, you know.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And when it comes to openin' boxes—bo, since old Jimmy Hope quit
-the game and sneezed in, I guess Shang Conklin's the wisest boxman that
-ever unbuttoned a combination crib with his bare hands. He's sure the real
-McCoy there—not no common yegg, you understand, with a steel drill
-and a gat in his kicks and a rubber bottle full of soup tied under his
-coat; but doin' the real fancy stuff, with nothin' to help him but the old
-ten fingers and the educated ear. And he never works with a mob neither.
-Any time you make Shang he'll be playin' the lone hand—providin' his
-own nut and goin' south with all the clean-up. No splittin' with anybody
-for Shang—it's against his business principles. That's why he's
-labelled the Solitary Kid.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Most of this was as pure Greek to Judge Priest, who, I may say, knew no
-Greek, pure or otherwise. Suddenly aware of the bewilderment revealed in
-the countenance of his interviewer, Montreal Red checked up and took a new
-track.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Say, bo, you ain't makin' me, are you? Well, then, maybe I'd better spiel
-it out slow. Know wot a peterman is?”
- </p>
-<p>
-The judge shook his head.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, you know wot a box is, don't you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'm skeered that I don't, though I believe I'm beginnin' to git a faint
-idea,” said Judge Priest.
-</p>
-<p>
-As though deploring such ignorance Montreal Red shook his flame-coloured
-head.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I'll frame it for you different—in sucker language,” he said.
-</p>
-<p>
-And accordingly he did, most painstakingly.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Now then,” he said at the end of five minutes of laborious translation,
-“do you get me?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I git you,” said Judge Priest. “And I'm mighty much obliged. Now, then,
-ef it ain't too much trouble, I'd like to git in touch with this here
-Mister Conklin, et cetery. Do you, by any chance, know his present
-whereabouts?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Before replying to this the Montreal Red communed with himself for a brief
-space.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Old-timer,” he said finally, “if I thought you was playin' in with the
-dicks I'd see you in Belgium before I tipped you off to anything. But this
-here mouthpiece of mine”—he indicated the note from young Mr.
-Fairleigh—“says you're on the level. I judge he wouldn't take my
-good fall-money and then cross me this way. I take it you ain't tryin' to
-slip one over on Shang? All right, then; I'll tell you where he is—he's
-in Atlanta, Georgia.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And whut is his address there?” pursued Judge Priest.
-</p>
-<p>
-“The Federal prison—that's all,” said Montreal tied. He smiled
-softly. “If I don't beat this little case of mine I'm liable to meet him
-down there along toward spring, or maybe even sooner. The bulls nailed him
-at Chattanooga, Tennessee, about a month ago for a little national-bank
-job, and right quick he taken a plea and got off with a short bit in Uncle
-Sammy's big house. I was readin' about it in the papers. You wouldn't have
-no trouble findin' him at Atlanta—he'll be in to callers for the
-next five years.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Bein' an amateur Old Cap Collier certainly calls fur a lot of travellin'
-round,” murmured Judge Priest, half to himself, and he sighed a small sigh
-of resignation as he arose.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Wot's that? I don't make you?” asked Montreal Red.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Nothin',” said Judge Priest; “nothin' a-tall. I was jest thinkin' out
-loud; it's a sort of failin' of mine ez I git older. You said, didn't you,
-that these here sleepin' potions which you was mentionin' a minute ago are
-mostly administered in beer?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Mostly in beer,” said Montreal Red. “The little old knock-out seems to
-work best in the lather stuff. I don't know why, but it does.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It's like this: You take the beer——”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, I wasn't figgerin' on usin' it myself,” explained Judge Priest
-hastily. “Much obliged to you all the same, young man.”
- </p>
-<p>
-A night in a sleeping car brought Judge Priest to Atlanta. A ride in a
-trolley car brought him to the warden's office of a large reformatory
-institution beyond the suburbs of that progressive city. A ten-minute chat
-with the warden and the display of divers credentials brought him the
-privilege of an interview, in private, with a person who, having so many
-names to pick from, was yet at this time designated by a simple number.
-Even in convict garb, which is cut on chastely plain lines and which
-rarely fits perfectly the form of its wearer, this gentleman continued
-somehow to bespeak the accomplished metropolitan in his physical outlines
-and in his demeanour as well, maintaining himself, as you might say,
-jauntily.
-</p>
-<p>
-In the first few moments of his meeting with Judge Priest there was about
-him a bearing of reserve—almost of outright suspicion. But half a
-dozen explanatory sentences from the judge served speedily to establish an
-atmosphere of mutual understanding. I believe I stated earlier in my tale
-that Judge Priest had a little knack for winning people's confidences.
-Perhaps I should also explain that at a suitable time in the introductory
-stages of the conversation he produced a line in the characteristic
-handwriting of Mr. Montreal Red. Being thereby still further enlightened
-as to the disinterestedness of the venerable stranger's motives, the
-Solitary Kid proved frankness itself. Preliminarily, though, he listened
-intently while Judge Priest recited in full a story that had mainly to do
-with the existing plight of Emanuel Moon.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Now then, suh,” said Judge Priest at the conclusion of his narrative,
-“I've laid all the cyards that I hold on the table right in front of you.
-Ef I'm correct in my guess that you're the party of the second part in
-this here transaction. I don't need to go on, because you know a sight more
-about the rest of it than whut I do. The way I figger it, a decent, honest
-little man is in serious trouble, mainly on your account. Ef you're so
-minded I calculate that you kin help him without hurtin' yourself any. Now
-then, presumin' sech to be the case, is there anythin' you'd like to say
-to me—ez his friend?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Conklin, alias Caruthers, alias Crowley, and so on, put a question of his
-own now:
-</p>
-<p>
-“You say the president of that bank is the one that tried to fasten this
-job on Moon, eh? Well, then, before we go any further, suppose you tell me
-what that president looks like?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest sketched a quick word picture of Mr. Hiram Blair—accurate
-and fair, therefore not particularly complimentary.
-</p>
-<p>
-“That's enough,” said the convict grimly; “that'll do. Why, the
-long-whiskered old dog! Now then, Judge—you said you were a judge,
-didn't you?—I'm going to spill a funny yam for you. Never mind what
-my reasons for coming through are. Maybe I want to get even with somebody
-that handed me a large disappointment. Maybe I don't want to see that
-little Moon suffer for something he didn't do. Figure it out for yourself
-afterward, but first listen to me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'm listenin', son,” said Judge Priest.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Good!” said Conklin, lowering his voice cautiously, though he knew
-already they were alone in the warden's room.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Up to a certain point you've got the thing figured out just as it came
-off. That day on the train going into Louisville I started to take the
-little man at cards. I was going to deal him the big mitt and then clean
-him for what he had; but when he told me he worked in a bank—a nice,
-fat little country bank—I switched the play, of course. I saw
-thousands of dollars where I'd seen lunch money before. Inside of an hour
-I knew everything there was to know about that bank—what he knew and
-what I could figure from what he told me. All I had to do was to turn the
-spigot once in a while and let him run on. And then, when he began to
-spill his cravings for a new clarinet, I almost laughed in his face. The
-whole thing looked like a pipe.
-</p>
-<p>
-“The dope was working lovely when I hit that town of yours two weeks
-later. At the right minute I flashed the clarinet on him and made him
-forget to throw the combination of the vault. So far, so good. Then, when
-I got him where I wanted him—over in my room—I slipped the
-drops into his beer; not enough to hurt him but enough to start him
-pounding his ear right away. That was easy too—so easy I almost
-hated to do it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Then I waited until about two o'clock in the morning, him lying there all
-the time on my bed, dead to the world.. So I took his keys off him and
-dropped across the street without being seen by anybody—the main
-street of your town is nice and quiet after midnight—I'll say that
-much for it anyway—and walked into the bank the same as if I owned
-it—in fact, I did own it—and made myself at home. I opened up
-the vault and went through it, with a pocket flash to furnish light; and
-then after a little I locked her up again, good and tight, leaving
-everything just like I'd found it, and went back to the hotel and put the
-keys in the little man's pocket, and laid down alongside of him and took a
-nap myself. D'ye see my drift?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I reckin I don't altogether understand—yit,” said Judge Priest.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You naturally wouldn't,” said Conklin with the air of a teacher
-instructing an attentive but very ignorant pupil. “Here's what happened:
-When I took a good look at the inside door of that vault and tried the
-tumblers of the outside door I knew I could open her any time I wanted to—in
-five minutes or less. Besides, I wouldn't need the keys any more, seeing
-as I could make impressions of 'em in wax, which I did as soon as I got
-back inside of my room at the hotel. So I was sure of having duplicates
-whenever I needed 'em.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'm feared that I'm still in the dark,” said Judge Priest. “You see it's
-only here right recently that I took up your callin' in life—ez a
-study.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, figure it out for yourself,” said Conklin. “If I made my clean-up
-and my getaway that night it was a cinch that they'd connect up Moon with
-his strange friend from New York; even a hick bull would be wise enough to
-do that. And inside of twenty-four hours they'd be combing the country for
-a gun answering to my general plans and specifications. At the beginning I
-was willing to take that chance; but after I had a look at that
-combination I switched my play. Besides, there wasn't enough coin in the
-box that night to suit me. I always play for the big dough when I can, and
-I remembered what the little man told me about that lumber company—you
-know the one I mean: that big crosstie concern—depositing its pay
-roll every other Friday night. So why wouldn't I hold off?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I begin to see,” said Judge Priest. “You're makin' me see a number of
-things that've been pesterin' me fur three-four days now.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Wait till you get the final kick,” promised the convict. “That'll open
-your eyes some, I guess. Well, I skinned out next morning and I went
-elsewhere—never mind where, but it wasn't far away. Then on the
-night of the fifteenth—the third Friday in the month—I came
-back again, travelling incog., as they say on the other side of the duck
-pond; and about two o'clock in the morning I paid another call to your
-little old Commonwealth Bank and opened up the vault—outside door
-and inside door—in four minutes by my watch, without putting a mark
-on her. That's my specialty—nice, clean jobs, without damaging the
-box or making any litter for the janitor to sweep up in the morning. But I
-didn't clean her out that time either.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Ahem!” said Judge Priest doubtfully. “You didn't?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, I didn't expect you to believe that right off,” stated Mr. Conklin,
-prolonging his climax. “The reason I didn't clean her out then was because
-she was already cleaned out; somebody had beat me to it and got away with
-everything worth having in that little old box. It was considerable of a
-disappointment to me—and a shock too.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It shorely must've been,” agreed the judge, almost sympathetically. “Mout
-I ask ef you've got any gineral notion who it was that—that deprived
-you of the fruits of your industry and your patience?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I don't have to have any general notion,” quoth Conklin et al., with
-bitterness creeping into his voice. “I know who it was—that is, I'm
-practically certain I know who it was. Because, while I was across the
-street in a doorway about half past one, waiting to make sure the
-neighbourhood was clear, I saw the gink I suspect come out of the bank and
-lock the door behind him, and go off up the street.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I thought at the time it was funny—anybody being in that bank at
-that hour of the night; but mostly I was glad that I hadn't walked in on
-him while he was there. So I just laid low and let him get away with the
-entire proceeds—which was my mistake. I guess under the
-circumstances he'd have been glad enough to divide up with me. I might
-even have induced him to hand over the whole bunch to me—though, as
-a rule, when it can be avoided I don't believe in any strong-arm stuff.
-But, you see, I didn't know then what I found out about half an hour
-later. So I just stood still where I was, like a boob, and let him fade
-away out of my life. Yep, Judge, I'm reasonably sure I saw the party that
-copped the big roll that night. And I presume I'm the only person alive
-that did see him copping it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Would you mind describin' him—ez nearly ez you kin?” asked Judge
-Priest; he seemed to have accepted the story as a truthful recital.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I don't need to,” answered the Solitary Kid. “You did that yourself just
-a little bit ago. If you're going back home any time soon I suggest that
-you ask the old pappy-guy with the long white whiskers what he was doing
-coming out of his own bank at half past one o'clock on the morning of
-October the sixteenth, with a long overcoat on, and his hat pulled down
-over his eyes, and a heavy sackful of dough hid under his coat. I didn't
-exactly see the sack, but he had it, all right—I'll gamble on that.
-You needn't tell him where you got your information, but just ask him.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Son,” averred Judge Priest, “I shorely will do that very thing; in fact,
-I came mighty nigh practically doin' so several weeks ago when I didn't
-know nigh ez much ez I do now—thanks to you and much obliged.”
- </p>
-<p>
-But Judge Priest was spared the trouble—for the time being, at
-least. What transpired later in a legal way in his courtroom has nothing
-whatever to do with this narration. It is true that he left Atlanta
-without loss of time, heading homeward as straight and as speedily as the
-steam cars could bear him.
-</p>
-<p>
-Even so, he arrived too late to carry out his promise to the Solitary Kid.
-For that very day, while he was on his way back, in a city several hundred
-miles distant—in the city of Chicago, to be precise—the police
-saw fit to raid an establishment called vulgarly a bucket shop; and
-finding among the papers and books, which they coincidentally seized,
-entries tending to show that our Mr. Hiram Blair had, during the preceding
-months, gone short on wheat to a disastrous extent, the police
-inconsiderately betrayed those records of a prolonged and unfortunate
-speculation to one of the Chicago afternoon papers, which in turn wired
-its local correspondent down our way to call upon the gentleman and ask
-him pointblank how about it.
-</p>
-<p>
-But the correspondent, who happened also to be the city staff of the <i>Daily
-Evening News</i>, a young man by the name of Rawlings, was unsuccessful in
-his attempts to see Mr. Blair, either at his place of business in the bank
-or at his residence. From what he was able to glean, the reporter divined
-that Mr. Blair had gone out of town suddenly. Putting two and two together
-the young man promptly reached the conclusion that Mr. Blair might
-possibly have had also some word from Chicago. Developments, rapidly
-ensuing, proved the youth correct in his hypothesis.
-</p>
-<p>
-Two days later Mr. Blair was halted by a person in civilian garb, but
-wearing a badge of authority under his coat, as Mr. Blair was about to
-cross the boundary line near Buffalo into the adjacent Dominion of Canada.
-Mr. Blair insisted at first that it was not him. In truth it did not look
-like him. Somewhere en route he had lost his distinguished chin whiskers
-and his commanding manner, acquiring in lieu of these a name which did not
-in the least resemble Hiram Blair.
-</p>
-<p>
-Nevertheless, being peremptorily, forcibly and over his protests detained—in
-fact, locked up—he was presently constrained to make a complete
-statement, amounting to a confession. Indeed, Mr. Blair went so far in his
-disclosures that the <i>Daily Evening News</i>, in an extra issued at high
-noon, carried across its front page, in box-car letters, a headline
-reading: Fugitive, in Durance Vile, Tells All!
-</p>
-<p>
-Old Judge Priest was passing Mrs. Teenie Morrill's boarding house one
-night on his way home from Soule's drug store, where he had spent the
-evening in the congenial company of Mr. Soule, Sergeant Jimmy Bagby and
-Squire Roundtree. This was perhaps a week after his return from a flying
-trip to Atlanta, Georgia, the results of which, as the saying goes, still
-were locked within his breast.
-</p>
-<p>
-As he came opposite Mrs. Morrill's front gate a blast of harmonious sound,
-floating out into the night, saluted his ears. He looked upward. Behind a
-front window on the top floor, with his upper lip overlapping the
-mouthpiece of a handsome clarinet and his fingers flitting upon the
-polished shaft of the instrument, sat little Emanuel Moon, now, by virtue
-of appointment, Deputy Circuit Clerk Emanuel Moon, playing The Last Rose
-of Summer with the fervour inspired of a happy heart, a rehabilitated
-reputation, a lucrative and honourable employment in the public service,
-and a newly acquired mastery of the melodic intricacies of the air in
-question—four things calculated, you will allow, to make anyone
-blithe of the spirit.
-</p>
-<p>
-The old judge halted and smiled up at the window. Then, as he moved
-onward, he uttered the very word—a small coincidence, this—which
-I chose for the opening text of this chapter out of the life and the times
-of our town.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Poor little ant!” said Judge Priest to himself; and then, as an
-afterthought: “But a dag-gone clever little feller!”
- </p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-V. SERGEANT JIMMY BAGBY'S FEET
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ERGEANT JIMMY BAGBY sat on the front porch of the First Presbyterian
-parsonage with an arched framing of green vines above his head. His broad
-form reposed in a yet broader porch chair—his bare feet, in a
-foot-tub of cold water.
-</p>
-<p>
-The sergeant wore his reunion regalia, consisting, in the main, of an
-ancient fatigue jacket with an absurdly high collar and an even more
-absurdly short and peaked tail. About his generous middle was girthed a
-venerable leather belt that snaffled at the front with a broad buckle of
-age-darkened brass and supported an old cartridge box, which perched
-jauntily upon a fold of the wearer's plump hip like a birdbox on a crotch.
-Badges of resplendent new satin, striped in alternate bars of red and
-white, flowed down over his foreshortened bosom, partly obscuring the
-scraps of rotted and faded braid and the big round ball buttons of dulled
-brass, which adhered intermittently to the decayed front of his uniform
-coat. Against a veranda post leaned the sergeant's rusted rifle, the same
-he had carried to the war and through the war and home again after the
-war, and now reserved for occasions of high state, such as the present
-one.
-</p>
-<p>
-The sergeant's trousers were turned high up on his shanks; his shoes
-reposed side by side alongside him on the floor, each with a white yarn
-sock crammed into and overflowing it. They were new shoes, but excessively
-dusty and seamed with young wrinkles; and they bore that look of total
-disrepute which anything new in leather always bears after its first
-wearing. With his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped loosely
-between his knees, Sergeant Bagby bent forward, looking first up the wide
-street and then down it. Looking this way he saw four old men, three of
-them dressed in grey and one in black, straggle limpingly across the road;
-and one of them carried at a droopy angle a flag upon which were
-white-scrolled letters to tell the world that here was Lyon's Battery, or
-what might be left of it. Looking that way he saw a group of ten or
-fifteen grey heads riding through a cross street upon bay horses; and at a
-glance he knew them for a detachment of Forrest's men, who always came
-mounted to reunions. Once they rode like centaurs; now, with one or two
-exceptions, they rode like sacks or racks. It depended on whether, with
-age, the rider had grown stout or stayed thin.
-</p>
-<p>
-Having looked both ways, the sergeant addressed himself to a sight nearer
-home. He considered his feet. Viewed through sundry magnifying and
-misleading inches of water they seemed pinky white; but when, groaning
-gently, he lifted one foot clear it showed an angry chafed red upon toe and
-heel, with large blis-tery patches running across the instep. With a plop
-he lowered it back into the laving depths. Then, bending over sideways, he
-picked up one of his shoes, shaking the crumpled sock out of it and
-peering down its white-lined gullet to read the maker's tag:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Fall River, Mass.,” the sergeant spelled out the stamped letters—“Reliance
-Shoe Company, Fall River, Mass.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He dropped the shoe and in tones of reluctant admiration addressed empty
-space:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, now, ain't them Yankees the persistent devils! Waitin' forty-odd
-years fur a chance to cripple me up! But they done it!” Judge Priest
-turned in at the front gate and came up the yard walk. He was in white
-linens, severely and comfortably civilian in cut, but with a commandant's
-badge upon his lapel and a short, bobby, black ostrich feather in the brim
-of his hat. He advanced slowly, with a slight outward skew to his short,
-round legs.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Aha!” he said understandingly. “Whut did I tell you, Jimmy Bagby, about
-tryin' to parade in new shoes? But no, you wouldn't listen—you would
-be one of these here young dudes!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Judge,” pleaded the sergeant, “don't rub it in! I'm about ruint—I'm
-ruint for life with these here feet of mine.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Still at a somewhat stiff and straddle-legged gait, the judge mounted the
-porch, and after a quick appraisal of all the chairs in sight eased his
-frame into one that had a cushioned seat. A small involuntary moan escaped
-him. It was the sergeant's time to gloat.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I'm wearin' my blisters on my feet,” he exulted, “and you're wearin'
-yourn—elsewhere. That's whut you git at your age fur tryin' to ride
-a strange horse in a strange town.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Jimmy,” protested the judge, “age ain't got nothin' a'tall to do with it;
-but that certainly was a mighty hard-rackin' animal they conferred on me.
-I feel like I've been straddlin' a hip roof durin' an earthquake. How did
-you make out to git back here?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That last half mile or so I shore did think I was trampin' along on
-red-hot ploughshears. If there'd been one more mile to walk I reckin I'd
-'a' been listed amongst the wounded and missin'. I jest did about manage
-to hobble in. And Mizz Grundy fetched me this here piggin of cold water
-out on the porch, so's I could favour my feet and watch the boys passin'
-at the same time.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest undertook to cross one leg over the other, but uncrossed it
-again with a wince of sudden concern on his pink face.
-</p>
-<p>
-“How do you aim, then, to git to the big doin's this evenin'?” he asked,
-and shifted his position slightly where he sat.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I ain't aimin' to git there,” said Sergeant Bagby. “I aim to stay right
-here and take my ease. Besides, ef I don't git these feet of mine shrunk
-down some by milkin' time, I'm shore goin' to have to pull my pants off
-over my head this night.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, now, ain't that too bad!” commiserated his friend and commander. “I
-wouldn't miss hearin' Gen'l Gracey's speech fur a purty.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Don't you worry about me,” the sergeant was prompt to tell him.. “You and
-Lew Lake and Hector Woodward and the other boys kin represent Gideon K.
-Irons Camp without me fur oncet anyway. And say, listen, Judge,” he added
-with malice aforethought, “you'd better borrow a goosehair cushion, or a
-feather tick, or somethin' soft, to set on out yonder. Them plain pine
-benches are liable to make a purty hard roostin' place, even fur an old
-seasoned cavalryman.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest's retort, if he had one in stock, remained unbroached,
-because just then their hostess bustled out to announce dinner was on the
-table. It was to be an early dinner and a hurried one, because, of course,
-everybody wanted to start early, to be sure of getting good seats for the
-speaking. The sergeant ate his right where he was, his feet in his tub,
-like a Foot-washing Baptist.
-</p>
-<p>
-There were servants aplenty within, but the younger Miss Grundy elected to
-serve him; a pretty girl, all in snowy white except for touches of red at
-her throat and her slender belted waist, and upon one wrist was a bracelet
-of black velvet with old soldiers' buttons strung thickly upon it. On a
-tray, daintily tricked out, she brought the sergeant fried chicken and
-corn pudding and butter beans, and the like, with com pones hot-buttered
-in the kitchen; and finally a slice carved from the blushing red heart of
-the first home-grown watermelon of the season. Disdaining the false
-conventions of knife and fork the sergeant bit into this, full face.
-</p>
-<p>
-Upon the tub bottom his inflamed toes overlapped and waggled in a gentle
-ecstasy; and between bites, while black seeds trickled from the corners of
-his lips, he related to the younger Miss Grundy the beginning of his story
-of that memorable passage of words upon a certain memorable occasion,
-between General John C. Breckinridge and General Simon Bolivar Buckner.
-The young lady had already heard this same beginning thrice, the sergeant
-having been a guest under the parental roof since noon of the day before,
-but, until interruption came, she listened with unabated interest and
-laughed at exactly the right places, whereupon the gratified narrator
-mentally catalogued her as about the smartest young lady, as well as the
-prettiest, he had met in a coon's age.
-</p>
-<p>
-All good things must have an end, however—even a watermelon dessert
-and the first part of a story by Sergeant Jimmy Bagby; and so a little
-later, rejecting all spoken and implied sympathy with a jaunty
-indifference that may have been slightly forced, the sergeant remained,
-like another Diogenes, in the company of his tub, while the rest of the
-household, including the grey-haired Reverend Doctor Grundy, his
-white-haired wife, Judge Priest and the two Misses Grundy, departed in a
-livery-stable carryall for a given point half a mile up the street, where
-a certain large skating rink stretched its open doors hospitably, so
-disguised in bunting and flags it hardly knew itself by its grand yet
-transient title of Reunion Colosseum. Following this desertion, there was
-for a while in all directions a pleasurable bustle to keep the foot-fast
-watcher bright as to eye and stirred as to pulse.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Why, shuckins, there ain't a chance fur me to git lonely,” he bade
-himself—“not with all this excitement goin' on and these here hoofs
-of mine to keep me company!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Crowds streamed by afoot, asaddle and awheel, all bound for a common
-destination. Every house within sight gave up its separate group of
-dwellers and guests; for during reunion week everybody takes in somebody.
-Under the threshing feet the winnowed dust mounted up in scrolls from the
-roadway, sifting down on the grass and powdering the chinaberry trees
-overhead. No less than eight brass bands passed within sight or hearing.
-And one of them played Maryland, My Maryland; and one of them played The
-Bonnie Blue Flag—but the other six played Dixie, as was fitting.
-</p>
-<p>
-A mounted staff in uniform clattered grandly by, escorting the commanding
-general of some division or other, and an open carriage came along,
-overflowing with a dainty freightage of state sponsors and
-maids-of-honour. As it rolled grandly past behind its four white horses, a
-saucy girl on the back seat saw an old man sitting alone on the Grundy
-porch, with his feet in a tub, and she blew a kiss at him off the tips of
-her fingers; and Sergeant Bagby, half rising, waved back most gallantly,
-and God-blessed her and called her Honey!
-</p>
-<p>
-Soon, though, the crowds thinned away. Where multitudes had been, only an
-occasional straggler was to be seen. The harried and fretted dust settled
-back. A locust in a tree began to exercise his talents in song, and
-against the green warp of the shrubbery on the lawn a little blue bobbin
-of an indigo bird went vividly back and forth. Lonesome? No, nothing like
-that; but the sergeant confessed to himself that possibly he was just a
-trifle drowsy. His head dropped forward on his badged chest, and as the
-cool wetness drew the fever out of his feet his toes, under water, curled
-up in comfort and content.
-</p>
-<p>
-Asked about it afterward, Sergeant Bagby would have told you that he had
-no more than closed his eyelids for a wink or two. But the shadows had
-appreciably lengthened upon the grass before a voice, lifted in a hail,
-roused him up. Over the low hedge that separated the parsonage yard from
-the yard adjoining on the left a man was looking at him—a man
-somewhere near his own age, he judged, in an instantaneous appraisal.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Cumrud,” said this person, “howdy-do?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Which?” inquired Sergeant Bagby.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I said, Cumrud, howdy?” repeated the other.
-</p>
-<p>
-“No,” said the sergeant; “my name is Bagby.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I taken it fur granted that you was to home all alone,” said the man
-beyond the hedge. “Be you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“At this time of speakin',” said the sergeant, “there's nobody at home
-exceptin' me and a crop of blisters. Better come over,” he added
-hospitably.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well,” said the stranger, as though he had been considering the
-advisability of such a move for quite a period of time, “I mout.”
- </p>
-<p>
-With no further urging he wriggled through a gap in the hedge and stood at
-the foot of the steps, revealing himself as a small, wiry, rust-coloured
-man. Anybody with an eye to see could tell that in his youth he must have
-been as redheaded, as a pochard drake. Despite abundant streakings of grey
-in his hair he was still redheaded, with plentiful whiskers to match, and
-on his nose a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles, and on his face and neck a
-close sowing of the biggest, intensest freckles Sergeant Bagby had ever
-beheld. They spangled his skin as with red asterisks, and the gnarled hand
-he extended in greeting as he mounted the porch looked as though in its
-time it had mixed at least one million bran mashes.
-</p>
-<p>
-Achieving a somewhat wabbly standing posture in his keeler, the sergeant
-welcomed him in due form.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I don't live here myself,” he explained, “but I reckin you might say I'm
-in full charge, seein' ez I crippled myself up this mornin' and had to
-stay behind this evenin'. Come in and take a cheer and rest yourself.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Thanky!” said the freckly one. “I mout do that too.” He did. His voice
-had a nasal smack to it which struck the sergeant as being alien. “I
-didn't ketch the name,” he said. “Mine's Bloomfield—-Christian name,
-Ezra H.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Mine's Bagby,” stated the sergeant—“late of King's Hell Hounds.
-You've probably heard of that command—purty nigh everybody in these
-parts has.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Veteran myself,” said Mr. Bloomfield briskly. “Served four years and two
-months. Enlisted at fust call for volunteers.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Started in kind of early myself,” said the sergeant, mechanically
-catching for the moment the other's quality of quick, clipped speech. “But
-say, look here, pardner,” he added, resuming his own natural tone, “whut's
-the reason you ain't out yonder at that there Colosseum with all the other
-boys this evenin'?”
- </p>
-<p>
-A whimsical squint brought the red eyelashes dose together.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well,” stated Mr. Bloomfield, rummaging with a deliberate hand in the
-remote inner fastnesses of his whiskers, “I couldn't scursely say that I
-b'long out there.” Then he halted, as if there was no more to be said.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You told me you served all the way through, didn't you?” asked the
-sergeant, puzzled.
-</p>
-<p>
-“So I told you and so I did,” said Mr. Bloomfield; “but I didn't tell you
-which side it was I happened to be a-servin' on. Twentieth Indiana
-Infantry—that's my regiment, and a good smart one it was too.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh!” said Sergeant Bagby, slightly shocked by the suddenness of this
-enlightenment—“Oh! Well, set down anyway, Mr. Bloomfield. Excuse me—you're
-already settin', ain't you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-For a fraction of a minute they contemplated each other, Sergeant Bagby
-being slightly flustered and Mr. Bloomfield to all appearances perfectly
-calm. The sergeant cleared his throat, but it was the visitor who spoke:
-</p>
-<p>
-“I've got a fust-rate memory for faces, and the like; and when I fust seen
-you settin' here you had a kind of familiar cut to your jib someway.
-That's one reason why I hailed you. I wonder now if we didn't meet up with
-one another acrost the smoke back yonder in those former days? I'd take my
-oath I seen you somewheres.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I shouldn't be surprised,” answered Sergeant Bagby. “All durin' that war
-I was almost constantly somewheres.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Fust Bull Run—I wonder could it 'a' been there?” suggested Mr.
-Bloomfield.
-</p>
-<p>
-“First Manassas, you mean,” corrected the sergeant gently, but
-none-the-less firmly. “Was you there or thereabout by any chance?” Mr.
-Bloomfield nodded. “Me too,” said Sergeant Bagby—“on detached
-service. Mebbe,” he added it softly—“mebbe ef you'd turn round I'd
-know you by your back.”
- </p>
-<p>
-If the blow went home Mr. Bloomfield, like a Spartan of the Hoosiers, hid
-his wounds. Outwardly he gave no sign.
-</p>
-<p>
-“P'raps so,” he assented mildly; then: “How 'bout Gettysburg?”
- </p>
-<p>
-The sergeant fell into the trap that was digged for him. The sergeant was
-proud of his services in the East.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You bet your bottom dollar I was there!” he proclaimed—“all three
-days.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then p'raps you'd better turn round too,” said Mr. Bloomfield in honeyed
-accents, “and mebbe it mout be I'd be able to reckernise you by the shape
-of your spinal colyum.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Up rose Sergeant Bagby, his face puckering in a grin and his hand
-outstretched. High up his back his coat peaked out behind like the tail of
-a he-mallard.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Pardner,” he announced, “I'm right glad I didn't kill you when I had all
-them chances.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Cumrud,” replied Mr. Bloomfield, “on the whole and considerin' of
-everything, I don't regret now that I spared you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-If Sergeant Bagby had but worn a Confederate goatee, which he didn't,
-being smooth-shaved; and if he hadn't been standing mid-shin-deep in a
-foot-tub; and if only Mr. Bloomfield's left shirtsleeve, instead of being
-comfortably full of freckled arm, had been empty and pinned to the bosom
-of his waistcoat—they might have posed just as they stood then for
-the popular picture entitled <i>North and South United</i> which you will
-find on the outer cover of the Memorial Day edition of every
-well-conducted Sunday newspaper in the land. But that is ever the way with
-real life—it so often departs from its traditional aspects. After a
-bit the sergeant spoke.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I was jest thinkin',” he said dreamily.
-</p>
-<p>
-“So was I,” assented Mr. Bloomfield. “I wonder now if it could be so that
-we both of us had our minds on the same pleasin' subject?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I was jest thinkin',” repeated the sergeant, “that merely because the
-Bloody Chasm is bridged over ain't no fittin' reason why it shouldn't be
-slightly irrigated frum time to time.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“My idee to a jot,” agreed Mr. Bloomfield heartily. “Seems as if the dust
-of conflict has been a-floatin' round loose long enough to stand a little
-dampin' down.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Ef only I was at home now,” continued Sergeant Bagby, “I'd be able to put
-my hand on somethin' handy for moistenin' purposes; but, seein' as I'm a
-visitor here, I ain't in no position to extend the hospitalities suitable
-to the occasion.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Sho, now! Don't let that fret you,” soothed Mr. Bloomfield—“not
-with me livin' next door.” He nimbly descended the steps, but halted at
-the bottom: “Cumrud, how do you take yours—straight or toddy?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Sugar and water don't hurt none—in moderation,” replied the
-sergeant. “But look here, pardner, this here is a preacher's front porch.
-We don't want to be puttin' any scandal on him.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'd already figured that out too,” said the provident Mr. Bloomfield.
-“I'll bring her over in a couple of chiny teacups.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The smile which, starting from the centre, spread over the sergeant's face
-like ripples over a pond had not entirely faded away when in a
-miraculously short time Mr. Bloomfield returned, a precious votive
-offering poised accurately in either hand. “Bagby,” he said, “that's
-somethin' extry prime in the line of York-state rye!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Is it?” said the sergeant. “Well, I reckin the sugar comes frum
-Newerleans and that oughter take the curse off. Bloomfield, here's lookin'
-toward you!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Same to you, Bagby!”
- </p>
-<p>
-China clicked pleasantly on china as teacup bottom touched teacup brim,
-this sound being succeeded instantly by a series of soft sipping sounds.
-Sitting thus, his eyes beaming softly over the bulge of his upturned cup
-and his lips drawing in the last lingering drops of sirupy sweetness, the
-sergeant became aware of a man clumping noisily along the sidewalk—an
-old man in a collarless hickory shirt, with a mouse-grey coat dangling
-over one arm and mouse-grey trousers upheld by home-made braces. He was a
-tail, sparse, sinewy old man, slightly withered, yet erect, of a build to
-remind one of a blasted pine; his brow was very stormy and he talked to
-himself as he walked. His voice but not his words came to the sergeant in
-a rolling, thundery mutter.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Hey, pardner!” called Sergeant Bagby, holding his emptied cup
-breast-high. “Goin' some-wheres or jest travellin' round?”
- </p>
-<p>
-The passer-by halted and regarded him gloomily over the low palings of the
-Reverend Doctor Grundy's fence.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well,” he made slow answer, “I don't know ez it's anybody's business;
-but, since you ast me, I ain't headin' fur no place in particular—I'm
-tryin' to walk a mad off.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Come right on in here then,” advised the sergeant, “we've got the cure
-fur that complaint.” He glanced sideways toward his companion.
-“Bloomfield, this here love feast looks mighty like she might grow a
-little. Do you reckin you've got another one of them teacups over at your
-place, right where you could put your hands on it easy?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That's a chore which won't be no trouble whatsoever,” agreed Mr.
-Bloomfield; and he made as if to go on the errand, but stopped at the
-porch edge just inside the vines as the lone pedestrian, having opened the
-gate, came slowly toward them. The newcomer put his feet down hard on the
-bricks; slashes of angry colour like red flares burned under the skin over
-his high and narrow cheekbones.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Gabe Ezell—Cherokee Rifles,” he said abruptly as he mounted the
-steps; “that's my name and my command.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'm Sergeant Bagby, of King's Hell Hounds, and monstrous glad to make
-your acquaintance,” vouchsafed, for his part, the sergeant. “This
-gentleman here is my friend, Major Bloomfield. Take a cheer and set down,
-pardner, and rest your face and hands a spell. You look like you might be
-a little bit put out about something?” The stranger uttered a grunt that
-might mean anything at all or nothing at all. He lowered himself into a
-chair and tugged at the collarless band of his shirt as though it choked
-him. The sergeant, pleasingly warmed to the core of his being, was not to
-be daunted. He put another question:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Whut's the reason you ain't out to the speakin'? I'm sort of lamed up
-myse'f—made the fatal mistake of tryin' to break in a pair of
-Dam-Yankee shoes on a couple of Southern-Rights feet. I'm purty well
-reconciled, I reckin; but my feet appear to be still unreconstructed, frum
-what I kin gather.” Chuckling, he glanced downward at the stubborn
-members. “But there don't seem to be nothin' wrong with you—without
-it's your feelin's.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I was figgerin' some on goin' out there,” began the tall old man, “but I
-couldn't git there on time—I've been at the calaboose.” He finished
-the confession in a sort of defiant blurt.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You don't say so!” said the sergeant wonderingly, and commiseratingly
-too; and from where he stood on the top step the newly bre-vetted major
-evidenced his sympathy in a series of deprecatory clucks. The third man
-glared from one to the other of them.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, I ain't ashamed of it none,” he went on stormily. “Ef I had it to do
-over agin I'd do it agin the very same way. I may not be so young ez I was
-oncet, but anybody that insults the late Southern Confederacy to my face
-is breedin' trouble for hisse'f—I don't care ef he's as big as a
-mountain!”
- </p>
-<p>
-From the depths of the foot-tub came small splashing sounds, and little
-wavelets rose over its sides and plopped upon the porch floor.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I reckin sech a thing as that might pester me a little bit my own se'f,”
- stated the sergeant softly. “Yes, suh; you might safely venture that under
-them circumstances I would become kind of irritated myse'f. Who done it?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'll tell you,” said Mr. Ezell, “and let you boys be the jedges of
-whether I done the right thing. After the parade was through with this
-mornin' me and some of the other boys from down my way was knockin' round.
-I got separated from the rest of 'em someway and down yond' on that main
-street—I'm a stranger in this town and I don't rightly recall its
-name, but it's the main street, whar all them stores is—well,
-anyway, down there I come past whar one of these here movin'-picture
-to-dos was located. It had a lot of war pictures stuck up out in front of
-it and a big sign that said on it: At the Cannon's Mouth! So, not havin'
-nothin' else to do, I paid my ten cents to a young lady at the door and
-went on in. They gimme a seat right down in frontlike, and purty soon
-after that they started throwin' them pictures on a big white sheet—a
-screen, I think they calls it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, suhs, at the fust go-off it was purty good. I got consider'bly
-interested—I did so. There was a house come on the sheet that looked
-powerful like several places that I knows of down in Middle Georgia, whar
-I come frum; and there was several young ladies dressed up like they used
-to dress up back in the old days when we was all young fellows together.
-Right off, though, one of the young ladies—the purtiest one of the
-lot and the spryest-actin'—she fell in love with a Yankee officer.
-That jarred me up a little; yet, after all, it mout 'a' happened and,
-besides, he wasn't sech a bad young fellow—fur a Yankee. He saved
-the young lady's brother when the brother come home frum the army to see
-his sick baby and was about to be ketched fur a spy. Yes, suhs; I've got
-to admit that there Yankee behaved very decently in the matter.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, purty soon after the lovin' part was over they come to the fightin'
-part, and a string band began to play war pieces. I must say I got right
-smartly worked up 'long about there. Them fellows that was dressed up ez
-soldiers looked too tony and slick to be real natchel—there didn't
-seem to be nary one of 'em wearin' a shirt that needed searchin', the way
-it was when we-all was out soldierin'—but ef you'd shet your eyes
-'bout halfway you could mighty nigh imagine it was the real thing agin. A
-battery of our boys went into action on the aidge of a ploughed field and
-you could see the smoke bustin' out of the muzzles of the pieces, and you
-could hear the pieces go off, kerboom!—I don't know how they worked
-that part of it, but they did; and 'way over yond' in a piece of woods you
-could see the Yankees jest a-droppin'. I seem to recollect standin' up
-long about there and givin' a yell or two myself; but in a minute or so a
-whole lot more Yankees come chargin' out of the timber, and they begin to
-drive our boys back.
-</p>
-<p>
-“That didn't seem right to me—that didn't seem no way to have it. I
-reckin, though, I might 'a' stood that, only in less'n no time a-tall our
-boys was throwin' away their guns and some of 'em was runnin' away, and
-some of 'em was throwin' up their hands and surrenderin'! And the Yankees
-was chargin' in amongst 'em, a-cut-tin' and slashin' and shootin', and
-takin' prisoners right and left. It was a scandalous thing—and a lie
-besides! It couldn't never 'a' happened noway.”
- </p>
-<p>
-His voice, deep and grumbling before, became sharply edged with mounting
-emotion. Mr. Bloomfield looked away to avoid exposing a happy grin,
-new-born among his whiskers. It was Sergeant Bagby who spoke, the
-intention on his part being to soothe rather than to inflame.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Pardner,” he said, “you've got to remember it wasn't nothin' but jest
-play-actin'—jest hired hands makin' believe that it was so.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I don't care none ef it was,” snapped Mr. Ezell. “And, besides, whut's
-that got to do with it—with the principle of the thing? It was a
-deliberate insult flung right in the face of the late Southern Confederacy—that
-and nothin' short of it. Well, I stood it jest as long as I natchelly
-could—and that wasn't very long, neither, lemme tell you,
-gentlemen.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then whut?” inquired Sergeant Bagby, bending forward in his seat.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Then I up with my cheer and chunked it right through their dad-burned,
-lyin' sheet—that's whut I done! I busted a big hole in her right
-whar there was a smart-alecky Yankee colonel sailin' acrost on a horse. I
-says: 'Here's a few reinforcements frum the free state of Georgia!' And I
-let him have it with the cheer, kefrblim! That there battle broke up right
-then and there. And that's how I come to go to the calaboose.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Mr. Bloomfield, now rigidly erect, and with no grin on his face, opened
-his lips to say something; but Sergeant Bagby beat him to it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Pardner,” he asked incredulously, “did they lock you up jest fur doin'
-that?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No,” said the heated Mr. Ezell, “they didn't really lock me up a-tall.
-But the secont I throwed that cheer there was a lot of yellin' and
-scrabblin' round, and the lights went up, and the string band quit playin'
-its piece and here come a-runnin' an uppidy-lookin' man—he was the
-one that run the show, I take it—bleatin' out somethin' about me
-havin' broke up his show and him wantin' damages. He made the mistake of
-grabbin' holt of me and callin' me a name that I don't purpose to have
-nobody usin' on me. He wanted damages. Well, right there he got 'em!”
- </p>
-<p>
-He raised a bony fist, on which the knuckles were all barked and raw, and
-gazed at it fondly, as though these were most honourable scars.
-</p>
-<p>
-“So then, after that, a couple of them other show people they drug him
-away frum whar he was layin' on the floor a-yellin',” he went on, “and a
-town policeman come in and taken me off to the calaboose in a hack, with a
-crowd followin' 'long behind. But when we got there the gentleman that was
-runnin' the place—he wore blue clothes and I jedge from his costume
-and deportment he must 'a' been the town marshal—he listened to whut
-we-all had to say, and he taken a look at that there showman's busted jaw
-and sort of grinned to hisse'f; then he said that, seein' as all us old
-soldiers had the freedom of the city for the time bein', he 'lowed he'd
-let the whole matter drop right whar it was providin' I'd give him my
-solemn promise not to go projectin' round no more movin'-picture places
-endurin' of my stay in their midst. Well, ef they're all like the one I
-seen to-day it's goin' to be a powerful easy promise fur me to keep—I
-know that! But that's how I come to miss the doin's this evenin'—I
-missed my dinner too—and that's how I come to be walkin' way out
-here all by myse'f.”
- </p>
-<p>
-In the pause that followed Mr. Bloomfield saw his chance. Mr. Bloomfield's
-voice had a crackling tone in it, like fire running through broom-sedge.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Lookyhere, my friend!” he demanded crisply. “Ain't you been kind of
-flyin' in the face of history as well as the movin'-picture industry?
-Seems to me I recall that you pleg-taked Rebs got a blamed good lickin'
-about ever' once in so often, or even more frequently than that. If my
-memory serves me right it seems to me you did indeed!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Mr. Ezell swung in his chair and the spots in his cheeks spread until his
-whole face burned a brick-dust red.' Sergeant Jimmy Bagby threw himself
-into the breach. Figuratively speaking, he had both arms full of
-heartsease and rosemary.
-</p>
-<p>
-“In reguards to the major here”—he indicated Mr. Bloomfield with a
-gracious gesture of amity—“I furgot to tell you that he taken a
-rather prominent part—on the other side frum us.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As Mr. Ezell's choler rose his brows came down and lowered.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Huh!” said Mr. Ezell with deadly slowness. “Whut's a Yankee doin' down
-here in this country?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Doin' fairly well,” answered Mr. Bloomfield. “F'r instance, he's payin'
-taxes on that there house next door.” He flirted his whiskered chin over
-his left shoulder. “F'r instance, also, he's runnin' the leadin' tannery
-and saddle-works of this city, employin' sixteen hands regular. Also, he
-was elected a justice of the peace a week ago last We'nesday by his fellow
-citizens, regardless of politics or religion—thanky for askin'!
-</p>
-<p>
-“Also,” he went on, his freckles now standing out beautifully against a
-mounting pink background—“Also and furthermore, he remembers
-distinctly having been present on a number of occasions when he helped to
-lick you Seceshers good and proper. And if you think, my friend, that I'm
-goin' to abate one jot or tittle from that statement you're barkin' up the
-wrong tree, I tell you!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Now behold in the rôle of peacemaker Sergeant Jimmy Bagby rising grandly
-erect to his full height, but keeping his feet and ankles in the foottub.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Say, listen here, Major,” he pleaded, “ef you kin kindly see your way
-dear to abatin' a few jots on behalf of Indiana I'll bet you I kin induce
-Georgia to throw off every blamed tittle he's got in stock. And then ef
-Indiana kin dig up another of them delightful teacups of his'n I believe I
-kin guarantee that Kintucky and Georgia will join him in pourin' a small
-but nourishin' libation upon the altar of friendship, not to mention the
-thresholds of a reunited country. Ain't I got the right notion, boys? Of
-course I have! And then, as soon as we-all git settled down agin
-comfortable I'm goin' to tell you two boys something mighty interestin'
-that come up oncet when I was on hand and heared the whole thing. Did I
-mention to you before that I belonged to King's Hell Hounds?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Diplomacy surely lost an able advocate in the spring of 1865 when Sergeant
-Bagby laid down the sword to take up retail groceries. As soothing oil
-upon roiled waters his words fell; they fell even as sweet unguents upon
-raw wounds. And, besides, just then Mr. Ezell caught a whiff of a most
-delectable and appealing aroma as the sergeant, on concluding his remarks
-with a broad-armed gesture, swished his teacup directly under Mr. Ezell's
-nose.
-</p>
-<p>
-Probably not more than ten or twelve minutes had pleasantly elapsed—it
-usually took the sergeant twenty to tell in all its wealth of detail the
-story of what General Breckinridge said to General Buckner, and what
-General Buckner said in reply to General Breckinridge, and he was nowhere
-near the delectable climax yet—when an interruption came. Into the
-ken of these three old men, seated in a row upon the parsonage porch,
-there came up the street a pair whose gait and general air of flurriment
-and haste instantly caught and held their attention. Side by side sped a
-young woman and a young man—a girl and a boy rather, for she looked
-to be not more than eighteen or, say, nineteen, and he at the most not
-more than twenty-one or so. Here they came, getting nearer, half-running,
-panting hard, the girl with her hands to her breast, and both of them
-casting quick, darting glances backward over their shoulders as though
-fearing pursuit.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well,” said Mr. Bloomfield, “all the excitement appears to be happenin'
-round here this afternoon. I wonder now what ails them two young people?”
- He squinted through his glasses at the nearing couple. “Why, the gal is
-that pore little Sally Fannie Gibson that lives over here on the next
-street. Do tell now!”
- </p>
-<p>
-He rose; so, a moment later, did his companions, for the youth had jerked
-Doctor Grundy's gate open and both of them were scudding up the walk
-toward them. Doubtless because of their agitation the approaching two
-seemed to notice nothing unusual in the fact that these three elderly men,
-rising at their coming, should each be holding in his right hand a large
-china teacup, and that one, the central figure of the three, and the
-largest of bulk, should be planted ankle-deep and better in a small green
-tub, rising from it at an interested angle, like some new kind of plump,
-round potted plant.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh! Oh!” gasped the girl; she clung to the lowermost post of the
-step-rail. “Where is Doctor Grundy, please? We must see Doctor Grundy
-right away—right this minute!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“We want him to marry us!” exclaimed the youth, blurting it out.
-</p>
-<p>
-“We've got the license,” the girl said. “Harvey's got it in his pocket.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And here it is!” said the youth, producing the document and holding it
-outspread in a shaking hand. It appeared crumpled, but valid.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was but proper that Sergeant Bagby, in his capacity as host pro tem,
-should do the necessary explaining.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well now, young lady and young gentleman,” he said, “I'm sorry to have to
-disappoint you—monstrous sorry—but, to tell you the truth, the
-Reverend Doctor Grundy ain't here; in fact, we ain't lookin' fur him back
-fur quite some time yit.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“He is reunionisin' at the Pastime Skating Rink,” volunteered Mr.
-Bloomfield. “You'll have to wait a while, Sally Fannie.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh,” cried the girl, “we can't wait—we just can't wait! We were
-counting on him. And now—Oh, what shall we do, Harvey?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Shrinking up against the railing she wrung her hands. The sergeant
-observed that she was a pretty little thing—small and shabby, but
-undeniably pretty, even in her present state of fright. There were tears
-in her eyes. The boy was trembling.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You'd both better come in and take a cheer and ca'm yourselves,” said the
-sergeant. “Let's talk it over and see whut we-all kin do.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I tell you we can't wait!” gulped the girl, beginning to sob in earnest.
-“My stepfather is liable to come any minute! I'm as 'fraid as death of
-him. He's found out about the license—he's looking for us now to
-stop us. Oh, Harvey! Harvey! And this was our only chance!” She turned to
-her sweetheart and he put both his arms round her protectingly.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I know that stepfather of yours,” put in Mr. Bloomfield, in a tone which
-indicated that he did not know much about him that was good or wholesome.
-“What's his main objection to you and this young fellow gittin' married?
-Ain't you both of age?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, we are—both of us; but he don't want me to marry at all,”
- burst from the girl. “He just wants me to stay at home and slave and slave
-and slave! And he don't like Harvey—he hates him! Harvey hasn't been
-living here very long, and he pretends he don't know anything about
-Har-rr-r-vey.”
- </p>
-<p>
-She stretched the last word out in a pitiful, long-drawn quaver.
-</p>
-<p>
-“He don't like Harvey, eh?” repeated Mr. Bloomfield. “Well, that's one
-thing in Harvey's favour anyway. Young man,” he demanded briskly, “kin you
-support a wife?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, sir,” spoke up Harvey; “I can. I've got a good job and I'm making
-good pay—I'm in the engineering crew that came down from Chicago
-last month to survey the new short line over to Knoxville.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, what are we wasting all this time for?” broke in the desperate Sally
-Fannie. “Don't you-all know—didn't I tell you that he's right close
-behind us? And he'll kill Harvey! I know he will—and then I'll die
-too! Oh, don't be standing there talking! Tell us what to do, somebody—or
-show us where to hide!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Mr. Bloomfield's dappled hand waggled his brindled whiskers agitatedly.
-Mr. Ezell tugged at his hickory neckband; very possibly his thoughts were
-upon that similar situation of a Northern wooer and a Southern maid as
-depicted in the lately interrupted film drama entitled At the Cannon's
-Mouth. Like a tethered pachyderm, Sergeant Bagby swayed his form upon his
-stationary underpinning.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Little gal, I most certainly do wisht there was something I could do!”
- began Mr. Bloomfield, the spirit of romance all aglow within his elderly
-and doubtless freckled bosom.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, there is, Major!” shouted the sergeant suddenly. “Shore as gun's
-iron, there's somethin' you kin do! Didn't you tell us boys not half an
-hour ago you was a jestice of the peace?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, I did!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then marry 'em yourself!” It wasn't a request—it was a command,
-whoopingly, triumphantly given.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Cumrud,” said Mr. Bloomfield, “I hadn't thought of it—why, so I
-could!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, could you?” Sally Fannie's head came up and her cry had hope in it
-now. “And would you do it—right quick?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Unexpected stage fright overwhelmed Mr. Bloomfield.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I've took the oath of office, tubby sure—but I ain't never
-performed no marriage ceremony—I don't even remember how it starts,”
- he confessed.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Think it up as you go 'long,” advised Sergeant Bagby.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Whutever you say is bindin' on all parties concerned—I know that
-much law.” It was the first time since the runaways arrived that Mr. Ezell
-had broken silence, but his words had potency and pith.
-</p>
-<p>
-“But there has got to be witnesses—two witnesses,” parried Mr.
-Bloomfield, still filled with the buck-ague qualms of the amateur.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Whut's the matter with me and him fur witnesses?” cried Sergeant Bagby,
-pointing toward Mr. Ezell. He wrestled a thin gold band off over a
-stubborn fingerjoint. “Here's even a weddin' ring!”
- </p>
-<p>
-The boy, who had been peering down the silent street, with a tremulous
-hand cupped over his anxious eyes, gave a little gasp of despair and
-plucked at the girl's sleeve. She turned—and saw then what he had
-already seen.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, it's too late! It's too late!” she quavered, cowering down. “There he
-comes yonder!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“'Tain't no sech of a thing!” snapped Sergeant Bagby, actively in command
-of the situation. “You two young ones come right up here on this porch and
-git behind me and take hands. Indiana, perceed with your ceremony! Georgia
-and Kintucky, stand guard!” With big spread-eagle gestures he shepherded
-the elopers into the shelter of his own wide bulk.
-</p>
-<p>
-A man with a red, passionate face and mean, squinty eyes, who ran along
-the nearer sidewalk, looking this way and that, saw indistinctly through
-the vines the pair he sought, and, clearing the low fence at a bound, he
-came tearing across the grassplot, his heels tearing deep gouges in the
-turf. His voice gurgled hoarsely in his throat as he tried to utter—all
-at once—commands and protests, threats and curses.
-</p>
-<p>
-From somewhere behind Sergeant Bagby's broad back came the last feebly
-technical objection of the officiating functionary:
-</p>
-<p>
-“But, cumruds, somebody's got to give the bride away!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I give the bride away, dad-gum you!” blared Sergeant Bagby at the top of
-his vocal register. “King's Hell Hounds give the bride away!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Thus, over his shoulder, did Sergeant Bagby give the bride away; and then
-he faced front, with chest expanded and the light of battle in his eyes.
-</p>
-<p>
-Vociferating, blasphemous, furious, Sally Fannie's tyrant charged the
-steps and then recoiled at their foot. A lean, sinewy old man in a hickory
-shirt barred his way, and just beyond this barrier a stout old man with
-his feet in a foot-tub loomed both large and formidable. For the moment
-baffled, he gave voice to vain and profane foolishness.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Stop them two!” he yelled, his rage making him almost inarticulate. “She
-ain't of age—and even ef she is I ain't agoin' to have this!” “Say,
-ain't you got no politeness a'tall!” inquired Mr. Ezell, of Georgia.
-“Don't you see you're interruptin' the holy rites of matrimony—carryin'
-on thataway?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That's whut I aim to do, blame you!” howled the other, now sensing for
-the first time the full import of the situation. “I'll matrimony her, the
-little——” He spat out the foulest word our language yields for
-fouler tongues to use. “That ain't all—I'll cut the heart out of the
-man that interferes!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Driving his right hand into his right trousers pocket he cleared the three
-lower steps at a bound and teetered upon his toes on the very edge of the
-fourth one.
-</p>
-<p>
-In the act of making his hand into a fist Mr. Ezell discovered he could
-not do so by reason of his fingers being twined in the handle of a large,
-extra-heavy ironstone-china teacup. So he did the next best thing—he
-threw the cup with all his might, which was considerable. At close range
-this missile took the enemy squarely in the chest and staggered him back.
-And as he staggered back, clutching to regain his balance, Mr. Bloomfield,
-standing somewhat in the rear and improvising as fast as his tongue could
-wag, uttered the concluding, fast-binding words: “Therefore I pernounce
-you man and wife; and, whatever you do, don't never let nobody come
-betwixt you, asunderin' you apart!”
- </p>
-<p>
-With a lightning-fast dab of his whiskers he kissed the bride—he had
-a flashing intuition that this was required by the ritual—shoved the
-pair inside Doctor Grundy's front hall, slammed the door behind them,
-snatched up Sergeant Bagby's rusted rifle from where it leaned against
-Doctor Grundy's porch post, and sprang forward in a posture combining
-defence and offense. All in a second or two Mr. Bloomfield did this.
-</p>
-<p>
-Even so, his armed services were no longer required; for Sergeant Jimmy
-Bagby stepped nimbly out of his tub, picked it up in both hands and turned
-it neatly yet crashingly upside down upon the head of the bride's
-step-parent—so that its contents, which had been cold and were still
-coolish, cascaded in swishing gallons down over his person, effectually
-chilling the last warlike impulse of his drenched and dripping bosom, and
-rendering him in one breath whipped, choked and tamed.
-</p>
-<p>
-“With the compliments of the Southern Confederacy!” said Sergeant Bagby,
-so doing.
-</p>
-<p>
-The shadows on the grass lay lank and attenuated when the folks came back
-from the Pastime Rink. Sergeant Bagby sat alone upon Doctor Grundy's
-porch. There were puddles of spilt water on porch and step and the walk
-below, and a green foot-tub, now empty, stood on its side against the
-railings. The sergeant was drawing his white yam socks on over his
-water-bleached shanks.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, suh, Jimmy,” said Judge Priest as he came up under the vines, “you
-certainly missed it this evenin'. That was the best speech Gen'l Tige
-Gracey ever made in his whole life. It certainly was a wonder and a
-jo-darter!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Whut was the subject, cumrud?” asked Sergeant Bagby.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Fraternal Strife and Brotherly Love,” replied the judge. “He jest
-natchelly dug up the hatchet and then he reburied her ag'in—reburied
-her miles deep under Cherokee roses and magnolia blossoms. But how's your
-feet? I reckon you've had a purty toler'ble lonesome time settin' here,
-ain't you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I see—love and war! War and love,” commented the sergeant softly.
-</p>
-<p>
-Before answering further, he raised his head and glanced over the top of
-the intervening hedge toward the house next door. From its open door
-issued confused sounds of which he alone knew the secret—it was
-Georgia trying to teach Indiana the words and music of the song entitled
-Old Virginny Never Tire!
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, my feet are mighty nigh cured,” said he; “and I ain't had such a
-terrible lonesome time as you might think fur either—cumrud.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That's the <i>second</i> time you've called me that,” said Judge Priest
-suspiciously. “Whut does it mean?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, that? That's a fureign word I picked up to-day.” And Sergeant Bagby
-smiled gently. “It's a pet name the Yankees use when they mean pardner!”
- </p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-VI. ACCORDING TO THE CODE
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE most important thing about Quintus Q. Montjoy, Esquire, occurred a
-good many years before he was born. It was his grandfather.
-</p>
-<p>
-In the natural course of things practically all of us have, or have had,
-grandfathers. The science of eugenics, which is comparatively new, and the
-rule of species, which is somewhat older, both teach us that without
-grandfathers there can be no grandchildren. But only one in a million is
-blessed even unto the third generation by having had such a grandfather as
-Quintus Q. Montjoy had. That, indeed, was a fragrant inheritance and by
-day and by night the legatee inhaled of its perfumes. I refer to his
-grandfather on his father's side, the late Braxton Montjoy.
-</p>
-<p>
-The grandfather on the maternal side must have been a person of abundant
-consequence too, else he would never have begat him a daughter worthy to
-be mated with the progeny of that other illustrious man; but of him you
-heard little or nothing. Being long deceased, his memory was eclipsed in
-the umbra of a more compelling personality. It would seem that in all
-things, in all that he did and said in this life, Braxton Montjoy was
-exactly what the proud grandsire of a justly proud grandscion should be.
-He was a gentleman of the Old School in case that conveys anything to your
-understanding; and a first family of Virginia. He was a captain of
-volunteers in the War of Eighteen-Twelve. He was a colonel in the Mexican
-war; that though was after he emigrated out over the Wilderness Trail to
-the newer and cruder commonwealth of Kentucky. He was one of the founders
-of our town and its first mayor in that far-distant time when it emerged
-from the muddied cocoon of a wood-landing on the river bank and became a
-corporation with a charter and a board of trustees and all. Later along,
-in the early fifties, he served our district in the upper branch of the
-State Legislature. In the Civil war he would undoubtedly have been a
-general—his descendant gainsaying as much—except for the
-unfortunate circumstance of his having passed away at an advanced age some
-years prior to the beginning of that direful conflict. Wherefore the
-descendant in question, being determined that his grandfather should not
-be cheated of his due military meed by death, conferred an honourary
-brevet upon him, anyway.
-</p>
-<p>
-Nor was that all that might be said of this most magnificent of ancestors—by
-no means was it all. Ever and always was he a person of lofty ideals and
-mountainous principles. He never drank his dram in a groggery nor
-discussed the affairs of the day upon the public highway. Spurning such
-new-fangled and effetely-luxurious modes of transportation as carriages,
-he went horseback whenever he went, and wheresoever. In the summer time
-when the family made the annual pilgrimage back across the mountains to
-Old White Sulphur he rode the entire distance, both going and coming, upon
-a white stallion named <i>Fairfax</i>. To the day of his death he chewed
-his provender with his own teeth and looked upon the world-at-large
-through eyes, unlensed.
-</p>
-<p>
-Yet he might have owned a hundred sets of teeth or five hundred pairs of
-spectacles, had he been so minded, for to him appertained eighty slaves
-and four thousand acres of the fattest farm lands to be found in the rich
-bottoms of our county. War and Lincoln's Proclamation freed the slaves but
-the lands remained, intact and unmortgaged, to make easier the pathways of
-those favoured beings of his blood who might come after him. Finally, he
-was a duellist of a great and fearsome repute; an authority recognised and
-quoted, in the ceremonials of the code. In four historic meetings upon the
-field of honour he figured as a principal; and in at least three more as a
-second. Under his right shoulder blade, a cousin of President Thomas
-Jefferson carried to his grave a lump of lead which had been deposited
-there by this great man one fair fine morning in the Valley of Virginia,
-during the adjudication, with pistols, of a dispute which grew out of a
-difference of opinion touching upon the proper way of curing a Smithfield
-ham.
-</p>
-<p>
-We did not know of these things at first hand. Only a few elderly
-inhabitants remembered Braxton Montjoy as he had appeared in the flesh. To
-the rest of our people he was a tradition, yet a living one, and this
-largely through virtue of the conversational activities of Quintus Q.
-Montjoy, the grandson aforesaid, aided and abetted by Mrs. Marcella
-Quistenbury.
-</p>
-<p>
-I should be depriving an estimable lady of a share of the credit due her
-did I omit some passing mention of Mrs. Quistenbury from this narrative.
-She was one who specialised in genealogy. There is one such as she in
-every Southern town and in most New England ones. Give her but a single
-name, a lone and solitary distant kinsman to start off with, and for you
-she would create, out of the rich stores of her mind, an entire family
-tree, complete from its roots, deeply implanted in the soil of native
-aristocracy, to the uttermost tip of its far-spreading and ramifying
-branches. In the delicate matter of superior breeding she liberally
-accorded the Montjoy connection first place among the old families of our
-end of the state. So, too, with equal freedom, did the last of the
-Montjoys, which made it practically unanimous and left the honour of the
-lineage in competent hands.
-</p>
-<p>
-For Quintus Q.—alas and alackaday—was the last of his glorious
-line. Having neither sisters nor brothers and being unmarried he abode
-alone beneath the ancestral roof tree. It was not exactly the ancestral
-roof tree, if you wish me to come right down to facts. The original
-homestead burned down long years before, but the present structure stood
-upon its site and was in all essential regards a faithful copy of its
-predecessor.
-</p>
-<p>
-It might be said of our fellow-townsman—and it was—that he
-lived and breathed and had his being in the shadow of his grandfather.
-Among the ribald and the irreverent stories circulated was one to the
-effect that he talked of him in his sleep. He talked of him pretty
-assiduously when awake; there wasn't any doubt of that. As you entered his
-home you were confronted in the main hall by a large oil portrait of an
-elderly gentleman of austere mien, wearing a swallow-fork coat and a neck
-muffler and with his hair brushed straight back from the forehead in a
-sweep, just as Andrew Jackson brushed his back. You were bound to notice
-this picture, the very first thing. If by any chance you didn't notice it,
-Quintus Q. found a way of directing your attention to it. Then you
-observed the family resemblance.
-</p>
-<p>
-Quintus Q., standing there alongside, held his hand on his hip after
-exactly the same fashion that his grandfather held <i>his</i> hand on <i>his</i>
-hip in the pictured pose. It was startling really—the reproduction
-of this trait by hereditary impulse. Quintus Q. thought there was
-something about the expression of the eyes, too.
-</p>
-<p>
-If during the evening some one mentioned horses—and what assemblage
-of male Kentuckians ever bided together for any length of time without
-some one mentioning horses?—the host's memory was instantly
-quickened in regard to the white stallion named <i>Fairfax. Fairfax</i>
-achieved immortality beyond other horses of his period through Quintus Q.
-Some went so far as to intimate that Mr. Montjoy made a habit of serving
-hams upon his table for a certain and especial purpose. You had but to
-refer in complimentary terms to the flavour of the curly shavings-thin
-slice which he had deposited upon your plate.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Speaking of hams,” he would say—“speaking of hams, I am reminded of
-my grandfather, the old General—General Braxton Montjoy, you
-remember. The General fought one of his duels—he fought four, you
-know, and acted as second in three others—over a ham. Or perhaps I
-should say over the process of smoking a ham with hickory wood. His
-antagonist was no less a person than a cousin of President Thomas
-Jefferson. The General thought his veracity had been impugned and he,
-called the other gentleman out and shot him through the shoulder.
-Afterwards I believe they became great friends. Ah, sir, those were the
-good old days when a Southern gentleman had a proper jealousy of his
-honour. If one gentleman doubted another gentleman's word there was no
-exchange of vulgar billingsgate, no unseemly brawling upon the street. The
-Code offered a remedy. One gentleman called the other gentleman out.
-Sometimes I wish that I might have lived in those good old days.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Sometimes others wished that he might have, too, but I state that fact in
-parenthesis.
-</p>
-<p>
-Then he would excuse himself and leave the table and enter the library for
-a moment, returning with a polished rosewood case borne reverently in his
-two hands and he would put the case down and dust it with a handkerchief
-and unlock it with a brass key which he carried upon his watch chain and
-from their bed of faded velveteen within, bring forth two old duelling
-pistols with long barrels, and carved scrolls on their butts and hammers
-that stood up high like the ears of a startled colt. And he would bid you
-to decipher for yourself the name of his grandfather inscribed upon the
-brass trigger guards. You were given to understand that in a day of big
-men, Braxton Montjoy towered as a giant amongst them.
-</p>
-<p>
-Aside from following the profession of being a grandson, Quintus Q. had no
-regular business. There was a sign reading <i>Real Estate and Loans</i>
-upon the glass door of his one-room suite in the Planters' Bank building,
-but he didn't keep regular hours there. With the help of an agent, he
-looked after the collecting of the rents for his town property and the
-letting upon shares or leaseholds of his river-bottom farms; but otherwise
-you might say his chief occupation was that of being a sincere and
-conscientious descendant of a creditable forebear.
-</p>
-<p>
-So much for the grandfather. So much, at this moment, for the grandson.
-Now we are going to get through the rind into the meat of our tale:
-</p>
-<p>
-As may be recalled, State Senator Horace K. Maydew, of our town and
-county, being a leader of men and of issues, once upon a time hankered
-mightily to serve the district in Congress and in the moment that he could
-almost taste of triumph accomplished had the cup dashed from his lips
-through the instrumentality of one who, locally, was fancied as being
-rather better than a dabster at politics, himself. During the months which
-succeeded this defeat, the mortified Maydew nursed a sharpened grudge
-toward the enemy, keeping it barbed and fletched against the time when he
-might let fly with it. Presently an opportunity for reprisals befell.
-Maydew's term as State Senator neared its close. For personal reasons,
-which he found good and sufficient, the incumbent did not offer as a
-candidate to succeed himself. But quite naturally, and perhaps quite
-properly, he desired to name his successor. Privily he began casting about
-him for a likely and a suitable candidate, which to the senator's
-understanding meant one who would be biddable, tractable and docile.
-Before he had quite agreed with himself upon a choice, young Tobias Houser
-came out into the open as an aspirant for the Democratic nomination, and
-when he heard the news Senator Maydew re-honed his hate to a razor-edge.
-For young Tobe Houser, who had been a farmer-boy and then a country school
-teacher and who now had moved to town and gone into business, was
-something else besides: He was the nephew of Judge Priest, the only son of
-the judge's dead sister. It was the judge's money that had helped the
-young man through the State university. Undoubtedly—so Maydew read
-the signs of the times—it was the judge's influence which now
-brought the youngster forth as an aspirant for public office. In the
-Houser candidacy Maydew saw, or thought he saw, another attack upon his
-fiefship on the party organisation and the party machinery.
-</p>
-<p>
-On an evening of the same week in which Tobe Houser inserted his
-modestly-worded announcement card in the <i>Daily Evening News</i>,
-Senator Maydew called to conference—or to concurrence—two
-lieutenants who likewise had cause to be stalwart supporters of his
-policies. The meeting took place in the living room of the Maydew home.
-When the drinks had been sampled and the cigars had been lighted Senator
-Maydew came straight to the business in hand:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “I've got a candidate—a man none of us
-ever thought of before. How does the name of Quintus Q. Montjoy seem to
-strike you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Mr. Barnhill looked at Mr. Bonnin, and Mr. Bonnin looked back at Mr.
-Barnhill. Then both of them looked at Maydew.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Montjoy, eh?” said Barnhill, doubtfully, seeming not to have heard
-aright.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Quintus Q. Montjoy you said, didn't you?” asked Bonnin as though there
-had been any number of Montjoys to choose from. He spoke without
-enthusiasm.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Certainly,” answered Maydew briskly, “Quintus Q. Montjoy, Esquire. Any
-objections to him that you can think of, off-hand?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well,” said Mr. Barnhill, who was large of person and slow of speech, “he
-ain't never done anything.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“If I'm any judge he never will do anything—much,” supplemented Mr.
-Bonnin, who was by way of being small and nervous.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You've said it—both of you,” stated their leader, catching them up
-with a snap. “He never has done anything. That gives him a clean record to
-run on. He never will do anything—on his own hook, I mean. That'll
-make him a safe, sound, reliable man to have representing this district up
-yonder at Frankfort. Last session they licked the Stickney warehouse bill
-for us. This season it'll come up again for passage. I guarantee here and
-now that Quint Montjoy will vote right on that proposition and all other
-propositions that'll come up. He'll vote right because we'll tell him how
-to vote. I know him from the skin out.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“He's so powerfully pompious and bumpious—so kind of cocksure and
-high-an'-mighty,” said Mr. Barnhill. “D'ye reckin, Hod, as how he'll stand
-without hitchin'?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'll guarantee that, too,” said Senator Maydew, with his left eyelid
-flickering down over his left eye in the ghost of a wink. “He don't know
-yet that he's going to be our candidate. Nobody knows it yet but you and
-me. But when he finds out from us that he's going to have a chance to
-rattle round in the same seat that his revered granddaddy once ornamented—well,
-just you watch him arise and shine. There's another little thing that
-you've overlooked. He's got money,—plenty of it; as much money as
-any man in this town has got. He's not exactly what I'd call a profligate
-or a spendthrift. You may have noticed that except when he was spending it
-on himself he's very easy to control in money matters. But when we touch a
-match to his ambition and it flares up, he'll dig down deep and produce
-freely—or I miss my guess. For once we'll have a campaign fund with
-some real money behind it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-His tone changed and began to drip rancour:
-</p>
-<p>
-“By Judas, I'll put up some of my own money! This is one time when I'm not
-counting the cost. I'm going to beat that young lummox of a Houser, if
-it's the last thing I do. I'm going to rub his nose in the mud. You two
-know without my telling you why I'd rather see Houser licked than any
-other man on earth—except one. And you know who that one is. We
-can't get at Priest yet—that chance will come later. But we can get
-his precious nephew, and I'm the man that's going to get him. And Quint
-Montjoy is the man I'm going to get him with.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, Hod, jest ez you say,” assented Mr. Barnhill dutifully. “I was only
-jest askin', that's all. You sort of tuck me off my feet at fust, but the
-way you put it now, it makes ever'thing look mighty promisin'. How about
-you, Wilbur?” and he turned to Mr. Bonnin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, I'm agreeable,” chimed Mr. Bonnin. “Only don't make any mistake about
-one thing—Houser's got a-plenty friends. He'll give us a fight all
-right. It won't be any walkover.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I want it to be a fight, and I don't want it to be a walk-over, either,”
- said Senator Maydew. “The licking we give him will be all the sweeter,
-then.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He got up and started for the telephone on the wall.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I'll just call up and see if our man is at home. If he is, we'll all
-three step over there right now and break the news to him, that the voice
-of the people has been lifted in an irresistible and clamorous demand for
-him to become their public servant at his own expense.” The Senator was in
-a good humour again. “And say, Hod, whilst I'm thinkin' of it,” put in Mr.
-Barnhill sapiently, “ef he should be at home and ef we should go over
-there, tell him for Goddle Midey's sake not to drag in that late
-lamentable grandpaw of his'n, more'n a million times durin' the course of
-the campaign. It's all right mebbe to appeal to the old famblies. I ain't
-bearin' ary grudge ag'inst old famblies, 'though I ain't never found the
-time to belong to one of 'em myself. But there's a right smart chance of
-middle-aged famblies and even a few toler'ble new famblies in this here
-community. And them's the kind that does the large bulk of the votin' in
-primary elections.”
- </p>
-<p>
-We've had campaigns and campaigns and then more and yet other campaigns in
-our county. We had them every year—and we still do. Being what they
-were and true to their breeding the early settlers started running for
-office, almost before the Indians had cleared out of the young
-settlements. Politics is breath to the nostrils and strong meat to the
-bellies of grown men down our way. Found among us are persons who are
-office-seekers by instinct and office-holders by profession. Whole
-families, from one generation to another, from father to son and from that
-son to his son and his son's son become candidates almost as soon as they
-have become voters. You expect it of them and are not disappointed.
-Indeed, this same is true of our whole state. Times change, party lines
-veer and snarl, new issues come up and flourish for awhile and then are
-cut down again to make room for newer crops of newer issues still, but the
-Breckinridges and Clays, the Hardins and Helms, the Breathitts and
-Trimbles, the Crittendons and Wickliffes, go on forever and ever asking
-the support of their fellow-Ken-tuckians at the polls and frequently are
-vouchsafed it. But always the winner has cause to know, after winning,
-that he had a fight.
-</p>
-<p>
-As goes the state at large, so goes the district and the precinct and the
-ward. As I was saying just now, we have had warm campaigns before now; but
-rarely do I recall a campaign of which the early stages showed so
-feverishly high a temperature as this campaign between Quintus Q. Montjoy
-and young Tobias Houser for the Democratic nomination for State Senator.
-You see, beneath the surface of things, a woman's personality ran in the
-undercurrents, roiling the waters and soiling the channel. Her name of
-course, was not spoken on the hustings or printed in the paper, but her
-influence was manifest, nevertheless.
-</p>
-<p>
-There was one woman—and perhaps only one in all that community—who
-felt she had abundant cause to dislike Judge Priest and all that pertained
-to him by ties of blood, marriage, affection or a common interest. And
-this person was the present wife of the Hon. Horace K. Maydew, and by that
-same token the former wife of old Mr. Lysander John Curd. Every time she
-saw Congressman Dabney Prentiss passing by, grand and glorious in his
-longtailed coat and his broad black hat and his white tie, which is ever
-the mark of a statesman who is working at the trade, she harked back to
-that day when Judge Priest had obtruded his obstinate bulk between her
-husband and her husband's dearest ambition; and she remembered that,
-except for him, she might now be Mrs. Congressman Maydew, going to White
-House receptions and giving dinners for senators and foreign diplomats and
-cabinet officers and such. And her thoughts grew bitter as aloes; and with
-rancour and rage the blood throbbed in her wrists until her bracelets hurt
-her. Being minded to have a part and a parcel in the undoing of the Priest
-plans, she meddled in this fight, giving to Mr. Montjoy the benefit of her
-counsel and her open, active advocacy.
-</p>
-<p>
-Perhaps it was because he inclined a flattered ear to the lady's
-admonitions rather than to her husband's subtler chidings that Mr. Montjoy
-confirmed the astute Mr. Barnhill's forebodings and refused to stand
-without hitching. He backed and he filled; he kicked over the traces and
-got tangled in the gears. He was, as it turned out, neither bridle-wise
-nor harness-broken. In short he was an amateur in politics, with an
-amateur's faults. He took the stump early, which was all well and good,
-because in Red Gravel county if a candidate can't talk to the voter, and
-won't try, he might just as well fold up his tents like the Arab and take
-his doll rags and go on about his business, if he has any business. But
-against the guidance and the best judgment of the man who had led him
-forth as a candidate, he accepted a challenge from young Houser for a
-series of joint debates; and whilst Mr. Barnhill and Mr. Bonnin wagged
-their respective heads in silent disapproval, he repeatedly and
-persistently made proclamation in public places and with a loud voice, of
-the obligation which the community still owed his illustrious grandparent,
-the inference being that he had inherited the debt and expected to collect
-it at the polls.
-</p>
-<p>
-It is likewise possible that Candidate Montjoy listened over-much to the
-well meant words of Mr. Calhoun Tabscott. This Mr. Calhoun Tabscott
-esteemed himself a master hand at things political. He should have been,
-at that. One time or another he had been on opposite sides of every
-political fence; other times he bestraddled it. He had been a Greenbacker,
-a Granger, and a Populist and once, almost but not quite, a Republican.
-Occasions were when, in rapid succession, he flirted with the Single
-Taxers, and then, with the coy reluctance of one who is half-converted,
-harkened to the blandishments of the Socialists. Had he been old enough he
-would have been either a Know-Nothing or a Whig—either or perhaps
-both. In 1896 he quit the Silver Democrats cold, they having obtusely
-refrained from sending him as a delegate to their national convention. Six
-weeks later he abandoned the Gold Democrats to their fate because they
-failed to nominate the right man for president. It was commonly believed
-he voted the straight Prohibition ticket that year—for spite.
-</p>
-<p>
-In the matter of his religious convictions, Mr. Tabscott displayed the
-same elasticity and liberality of choice. In the rival fields of theology
-he had ranged far, grazing lightly as he went. When the Cumberland
-Presbyterians put chime bells in their spire, thereby interfering with his
-Sunday morning's rest, for he lived just across the street, he took his
-letter out of the church and thereafter for a period teetered on the verge
-of agnosticism, even going so far as to buy the works of Voltaire, Paine
-and Ingersol combined and complete in six large volumes. He worshipped a
-spell with the Episcopalians and once during a space of months, the
-Baptists had hopes of him. Rumour had it that he finally went over to the
-Methodists, because old Mr. Leatheritt, of the Traders National Bank, who
-was a Baptist, called one of his loans.
-</p>
-<p>
-Now, having been twice with Judge Priest in his races for the Circuit
-Judgeship and twice against him, Mr. Tabscott espoused the Montjoy
-candidacy and sat in Mr. Montjoy's amen corner, which, indeed, was
-altogether natural and consistent, since the Tabscotts, as an old family,
-dated back almost as far and soared almost as high as the Montjoys. There
-had been a Tabscott who nearly fought a duel himself, once. He sent the
-challenge and the preliminaries were arranged but at the eleventh hour, a
-magnanimous impulse triumphed over his lust for blood, and for the sake of
-his adversary's wife and helpless children, he decided to spare him. Mr.
-Tabscott felt that as between him and Mr. Montjoy a sentimental bond
-existed. Mr. Montjoy felt it, too; and they confabbed much together
-regarding ways, means and measures somewhat to the annoyance of Senator
-Maydew who held fast to the principle that if a master have but one man,
-the man should have but one master.
-</p>
-<p>
-The first of the joint debates took place, following a barbecue, at Gum
-Spring School-house in the northenhost corner of the county and the second
-took place three days later at the Old Market House in town, a large crowd
-attending. Acrimony tinctured Mr. Montjoy's utterances from the outset.
-Recrimination seemed his forte—that and the claims of honourable
-antiquity as expressed in the person of its posterity upon a grateful and
-remembering constituency. He bore heavily upon the fact—or rather
-the allegation—that Judge Priest was the head and the front of an
-office-holding oligarchy, who thought they owned the county and the county
-offices, who took what spoils of office and patronage they coveted for
-themselves, and sought to parcel the remainder out among their henchmen
-and their relatives. This political tyranny, this nepotism, must end, he
-said, and he, Quintus Q. Montjoy, was the instrument chosen and ordained
-to end it. “Nominate Montjoy and break up the County ring,” was the slogan
-he carried on his printed card. Therein, in especial, might be divined the
-undermining and capable hand of Senator Maydew. But when at the second
-meeting between the candidates Mr. Montjoy went still further and touched
-directly upon alleged personal failings of Judge Priest, one who knew the
-inner workings of the speaker's mind might have hazarded a guess that here
-a certain lady's suggestions, privately conveyed, found deliverance in the
-spoken word.
-</p>
-<p>
-The issue being thus, by premeditated intent of one of the two gentlemen
-most interested, so clearly and so acutely defined, the electors took
-sides promptly, becoming not merely partisans but militant and aggressive
-partisans. Indeed, citizens who seldom concerned themselves in fights
-within the party, but were mainly content to vote the straight party
-ticket after the fighting was over, came out into the open and declared
-themselves. Perhaps the most typical exemplar of this conservative class,
-now turning radical, was offered in the person of Mr. Herman Felsburg.
-Until this time Mr. Felsburg had held to the view that needless
-interference in primary elections jibed but poorly with the purveying of
-clothing to the masses. Former patrons who differed with one politically
-were apt to go a-buying elsewhere. No matter what your own leanings might
-be, Mr. Felsburg, facing you across a showcase or a counter, without ever
-committing himself absolutely, nevertheless managed to convey the
-impression that, barring that showcase or that counter, there was nothing
-between him and you, the customer—that in all things you twain were
-as one and would so continue. Such had been his attitude until now.
-</p>
-<p>
-When Mr. Montjoy speared at Judge Priest, Judge Priest remained outwardly
-quite calm and indifferent, but not so Mr. Felsburg. If he did not take
-the stump in defence of his old friend at least he frequented its base, in
-and out of business hours, and in the fervour of his championship he
-chopped his English finer and twisted his metaphors worse than ever he had
-done before, which was saying a good deal.
-</p>
-<p>
-One afternoon, when he returned to the store, after a two-hours' absence
-spent in sidewalk argument down by the Square, his brother, Mr. Ike
-Felsburg, who was associated in the firm, ventured to remonstrate with
-him, concerning his activities in the curbstone forum, putting the
-objections on the grounds of commercial expediency. At that he struck an
-attitude remotely suggestive of a plump and elderly Israelitish Ajax
-defying the lightning.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Listen here, you Ike,” he stated. “Thirty years I have been building up
-this here Oak Hall Clothing Emporium, and also hats, caps and gents'
-furnishings goods. You—you can run around with your lodge meetings
-and your benevolence societies, and all this time I work here, sweating
-like rats in a trap, and never is a word said by me to you, vicer or
-verser. I ask you as brother to brother, ain't that so, or ain't it? It
-is,” continued Mr. Herman, answering his own question.
-</p>
-<p>
-“But, Hermy,” interjected Mr. Ike, put on the defensive by the turn which
-the argument had taken, “but, Hermy, all what I have said to you is that
-maybe somebody who likes Montjoy would get mad at you for your words and
-take their custom up the street.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Let 'em!” proclaimed Mr. Herman with a defiant gesture which almost upset
-a glass case containing elastic garters and rubber armbands, “let 'em.
-Anybody which would be a sucker enough to vote for Montjoy against a fine
-young fellow like this here Houser would also be a sucker enough to let
-Strauss, Coleman & Levy sell him strictly guaranteed all-wool suitings
-made out of cotton shoddy, and I wouldn't want his custom under any
-circumstances whatsoever!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But, Hermy!” The protest was growing weaker.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You wait,” shouted Mr. Herman. “You have had your say, and now I would
-have mine, if you please. I would prefer to get one little word in
-sideways, if you will be so good. You have just now seen me coming in out
-of the hot sun hoarse as a tiger from trying to convince a few idiots
-which they never had any more sense than a dog's hind leg and never will
-have any, neither. And so you stand there—my own brother—and
-tell me I am going too far. Going too far? Believe me, Mister Ike
-Felsburg, I ain't started yet.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He swung on his heel and glared into the depths of his establishment.
-“Adolph,” he commanded, “come here!” Adolph came, he being head salesman
-in the clothing department, while Mr. Ike quivered in dumb apprehension,
-dreading the worst and not knowing what dire form it would assume.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Adolph,” said Mr. Herman with a baleful side-glance at his offending
-kinsman. “To-day we are forming here the Oak Hall and Tobias J. Houser
-Campaign and Marching Club, made up of proprietors, clerks, other
-employees and well wishers of this here store, of which club I am the
-president therefrom and you are the secretary. So you will please open up
-a list right away and tell all the boys they are already members in good
-standing.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, now, Mr. Herman,” said Adolph, “I've always been good friends with
-Quintus Q. Montjoy and besides which, we are neighbours. No longer ago
-than only day before yesterday I practically as good as promised him my
-vote. I thought if you was coming out for Houser, some of us here in the
-store should be the other way and so——”
- </p>
-<p>
-Mr. Herman Felsburg stilled him with a look and removed his hat in order
-to speak with greater emphasis.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Adolph Dreifus,” he said with a deadly solemnity, “you been here in this
-store a good many years. I would assume you like your job here pretty
-well. I would consider that you have always been well treated here. Am I
-right, or am I wrong? I am right! I would assume you would prefer to
-continue here as before. Yes? No? Yes! You remember the time you wrote
-with a piece of chalk white marks on the floor so that that poor
-nearsighted Leopold Meyer, who is now dead and gone, would think it was
-scraps of paper and go round all day trying to pick those chalk marks up?
-With my own eyes I saw you do so and I said nothing. You remember the time
-you induced me to buy for our trade that order of strictly non-selling
-Ascot neckties because your own cousin from Cincinnati was the salesman
-handling the line which, from that day to this, we are still carrying
-those dam' Ascot ties in stock? Did I say anything to you then?
-</p>
-<p>
-“No! Not a word did I say. All those things is years past and I have never
-spoken with you regarding them until to-day. But now, Adolph, I must say I
-am ashamed for you that you should pick on that poor Leopold Meyer, who
-was blind like a barn-door. I am ashamed for you that you should boost up
-that cousin of yours from Cincinnati and his bum lines. If I should get
-more ashamed for you than what already I now am, there is no telling what
-I should do. Adolph, you will please be so good as to remember that all
-persons that work in this here Oak Hall Clothing Emporium are for Tobe
-Houser for State Senator and no one else, whatsoever. Otherwise, pretty
-soon, I am afraid there will be some new faces selling garments around
-here. Do I make myself plain? I do!
-</p>
-<p>
-“My brother—the junior partner here”—he dwelt heavily upon the
-word <i>junior</i>, making of it a most disqualifying adjective—“he
-also thinks in this matter the same way as I do. If you don't believe me,
-ask him for yourself. There he stands like a dumb engraved image—ask
-him.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And Mr. Ike, making craven surrender, raised both hands in token of his
-capitulation and weakly murmured, “Yes.”
- </p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<p>
-The third of the joint debates, which, as it turned out, was to be the
-last one of the series, began according to schedule and announcement at
-the boat store corner in the presence of an assemblage mustering up in the
-hundreds. In fact the <i>Daily Evening News</i> reporter, in the
-introductory paragraph of his account, referred to it, I believe, as “a
-sea of upturned faces.” Mr. Montjoy led off first. He had his say, for the
-better part of an hour, speaking with much fluency from a small board
-platform that was built up against the side of the old boat store and
-occasionally, with a fretful shake of his head, raising his voice so it
-might be heard above the rumbling objurgations of the first mate of the <i>Cumberland
-Queen</i> who, thirty yards down the old gravel levee, was urging his
-black rousters to greater speed as they rolled the last of a consignment
-of tobacco hogsheads across the lower wharf boat and aboard the <i>Queen's</i>
-boiler deck. Mr. Montjoy concluded with a neat verbal flourish and sat
-down, mopping his moistened brow with a square of fine cambric. Mr.
-Montjoy never permitted him-self to sweat and in public, at least, he
-perspired but seldom; but there were times when he did diffuse a
-perceptible glow.
-</p>
-<p>
-His rival arose to answer him. He started off—Houser did—by
-stating that he was not running on his family record for this office. He
-was running on his own record, such as it was. Briefly, but vigorously, he
-defended his uncle; a thing he had done before. Continuing, he would say
-Mr. Montjoy had accused him of being young. He wished to plead guilty to
-that charge. If it were a defect, to be counted against him, time would
-probably cure him of it and he thought the Senate Chamber at Frankfort,
-this state, provided a very suitable spot for the aging process. (Laughter
-and applause.) He had a rather whimsical drawl and a straightforward,
-commonplace manner of delivery.
-</p>
-<p>
-He continued, and I quote:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Some of you may have heard somewhere—casually—that my
-opponent had a grandfather. Stories to that general effect have been in
-circulation for quite some little time in this vicinity. I gather from
-various avenues of information that my opponent is not exactly ashamed of
-his grandfather. I don't blame him for that. A person without many
-prospects so far as the future is concerned is not to be blamed for
-dwelling rather heavily upon the past. But, fellow citizens, doesn't it
-strike you that in this campaign we are having altogether too much
-grandfather and not enough grandson? (Renewed laughter from the Houser
-adherents and Mr. Montjoy's face turning a violent red.) It strikes me
-that the stock is sort of petering out. It strikes me that the whale has
-bred a minnow.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And so, in light of these things, I want to make this proposition here
-and now: I want every man in this county whose grandfather owned eighty
-slaves and four thousand acres of bottom lands to vote for Mr. Montjoy.
-And all I ask for myself is that every man whose grandfather didn't own
-eighty slaves and four thousand acres, should cast his vote for me.” (A
-voice, “My grandpop never owned nary nigger, Toby,—I reckin you git
-my vote without a struggle, boy.”)
-</p>
-<p>
-Along this strain Mr. Houser continued some minutes. It was a line he had
-not taken in either of his previous arguments with his opponent. He
-branched away from it to tell what he meant to do for the people of the
-district in the event of his nomination and election but presently he came
-back again to the other theme, while Judge Priest grinned up at him from
-his place in the edge of the crowd and Mr. Montjoy fidgeted and fumed and
-wriggled as though the chair upon which he sat had been the top of a
-moderately hot stove. From these and from yet other signs it might have
-been noted that Mr. Montjoy, under the nagging semihumorous goadings of
-young Houser, was rapidly losing his temper, which, by our awkward
-Anglo-Saxon mode of speech, is but another way of saying he was not losing
-his temper at all but, instead, finding out that he had one.
-</p>
-<p>
-The <i>Cumberland Queen</i> blew her whistle for departure and as the roar
-died away Mr. Houser might be heard in the act of finishing a sentence
-touching with gentle irony upon the topic which seemed so to irk and
-irritate Mr. Montjoy. He never finished it.
-</p>
-<p>
-Up, from his chair, sprang Mr. Montjoy, and shook a knotted fist beneath
-Mr. Houser's nose.
-</p>
-<p>
-“How dare you?” he demanded. “How dare you indulge in your cheap sarcasm—your
-low scurrilities—regarding one of the grandest men the Southland
-ever produced?”
- </p>
-<p>
-His voice turned falsetto and soared to a slate-pencilly screech:
-</p>
-<p>
-“I repeat it, sir—how dare you—you underbred ignoramus—you
-who never knew what it was to have a noble grandfather! Nobody knows who
-your grandfather was. I doubt whether anybody knows who your father——”
- </p>
-<p>
-Perhaps it was what Mr. Montjoy appeared to be on the point of asserting.
-Perhaps it was that his knuckles, as he brandished his fist in Mr.
-Houser's face, grazed Mr. Houser's cheek.
-</p>
-<p>
-Mr. Houser stretched forth a solid arm and gripped a handful of sinewy
-fingers in the lapels of Mr. Montjoy's coat. He didn't strike Mr. Montjoy,
-but he took him and he shook him—oh, how he shook him. He shook him
-up and down, and back and forth and to and fro and forward and rearward;
-shook him until his collar came undone and his nose glasses flew off into
-space; shook him until his hair came down in his eyes and his teeth
-rattled in his jaw; shook him into limp, breathless, voiceless
-helplessness, and then holding him, dangling and flopping for a moment,
-slapped him once very gently, almost as a mother might slap an erring
-child of exceedingly tender years; and dropped the limp form, and stepped
-over it and climbed down off the platform into the midst of the excited
-crowd. The third of the series of the joint debates was ended; also the
-series itself.
-</p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest instantly shoved forward, his size and his impetuosity
-clearing the path for him through a press of lesser and less determined
-bodies. He thrust a firm hand into the crook of his nephew's arm and led
-him off up the street clear of those who might have sought either to
-compliment or to reprehend the young man. As they went away linked
-together thus, it was observed that the judge wore upon his broad face a
-look of sore distress and it was overheard that he grievously lamented the
-most regrettable occurrence which had just transpired and that openly he
-reproached young Houser for his elemental response to the verbal attacks
-of Mr. Montjoy and, in view of the profound physical and spiritual shock
-to Mr. Montjoy's well-known pride and dignity, that he expressed a deep
-concern for the possible outcome. Upon this last head, he was particularly
-and shrilly emphatic.
-</p>
-<p>
-In such a fashion, with the nephew striving vainly to speak in his own
-defence and with the uncle as constantly interrupting to reprimand him and
-to warn him of the peril he had brought upon his head, and all in so loud
-a voice as to be clearly audible to any persons hovering nearby, the pair
-continued upon their journey until they reached Soule's Drug Store. There,
-with a final sorrowful nod of the judge's head and a final shake of his
-admonishing forefinger, they parted. The younger man departed, presumably
-for his home to meditate upon his foolhardy conduct and the older went
-inside the store and retired to Mr. Soule's little box of an office at the
-rear, hard by the prescription case. Carefully closing the door after him
-to insure privacy, he remained there for upwards of an hour, engaged
-undoubtedly in melancholy reflections touching upon the outbreak of his
-most culpable kinsman and upon the conceivable consequences. He must have
-done some writing, too, for when at length he emerged he was holding in
-one hand a sealed envelope. Summoning to him Logan Baker, Mr. Soule's
-coloured errand boy, he entrusted the note to Logan, along with a quarter
-of a dollar for messenger hire, and sent the black boy away. From this
-circumstance several persons who chanced to be in Soule's, hypothesised
-that very probably the judge had taken it upon himself to write Mr.
-Montjoy a note of apology in the name of his nephew and of himself.
-However, this upon the part of the onlookers was but a supposition. They
-merely were engaged in the old practice, so hallowed among bystanders, of
-putting two and two together, by such process sometimes attaining a total
-of four, and sometimes not.
-</p>
-<p>
-As regards, on the other hand, Quintus Q. Montjoy, he retained no distinct
-recollection of the passage homeward, following his mishandling by Tobias
-J. Houser. For the time a seething confusion ruled his being. Mingled
-emotions of chagrin, rage and shame—but most of all rage—boiled
-in his brain until the top of his skull threatened to come right off.
-Since he was a schoolboy until now, none had laid so much as an impious
-finger upon him. For the first time in his life he felt the warm strong
-desire to shed human blood, to see it spatter and pour forth in red
-streams. The spirit of his grandfather waked and walked within him; anyway
-it is but fair to assume that it did so.
-</p>
-<p>
-Somebody must have rebuttoned Mr. Montjoy's collar for him and readjusted
-his necktie. Somebody else of equally uncertain identity must have
-salvaged his glasses and restored them to their customary place on the
-bridge of his slender nose. True, he preserved no memory of these details.
-But when, half an hour after the encounter, a hired hack deposited him at
-his yard gate and when Mr. Barnhill, who it would appear dimly and almost
-as a figment from a troubled dream, accompanied him on the ride, had
-dismounted and had volunteered to help him alight from the vehicle,
-meanwhile offering words intended to be sympathetic, Mr. Montjoy found
-collar, necktie and glasses all properly bestowed.
-</p>
-<p>
-Within the sanctified and solitary precincts of his library, beneath the
-grim, limned eyes of his ancestor, Mr. Montjoy re-attained a measure of
-outward calm and of consecutive thought; coincidently with these a
-tremendous resolution began to harden inside of him. Presently as he
-walked the floor, alternately clenching and unclenching his hands, the
-telephone bell sounded. Answering the call, he heard coming across the
-line the familiar voice of one, who, in the temporary absence of her
-husband from the city, now undertook to offer advice. It would seem that
-Mrs. Maydew had but heard of the brutal assault perpetrated upon her
-friend; she was properly indignant and more than properly desirous that a
-just vengeance be exacted. It would seem in this connection she had
-certain vigorous suggestions to offer. And finally it would seem she had
-just seen the evening paper and desired to know whether Mr. Montjoy had
-seen his copy?
-</p>
-<p>
-Mr. Montjoy had not. After a short interchange of views, when, from
-intensity of feeling, the lady fairly made the wire sibilate and sing as
-her words sped over it, she rang off and Mr. Montjoy summoned his butler.
-His was the only roof in town which harboured a butler beneath it. Other
-families had male servants—of colour—who performed duties
-similar to those performed by Mr. Mont joy's man but they didn't call
-these functionaries butlers and Mr. Montjoy did. He sent the butler out
-into the yard to get the paper, which a boy had flung over the fence
-palings in a twisted wisp. And when the butler brought it to him he
-opened, to read, not the <i>Daily Evening News</i> highly impartial
-account of the affair at the boat store corner—that could come later—but
-to read first off a card signed <i>Veritas</i> which was printed at the
-bottom of the second column of the second inside page, immediately
-following the editorial comment of the day. It was this card to which
-young Mrs. Maydew had particularly directed his attention.
-</p>
-<p>
-He bent his head and he read. The individual who chose to hide behind the
-nom de plume of <i>Veritas</i> wrote briefly and to the point. At the
-outset he confessed himself as one who harboured old-fashioned ideals.
-Therefore he abhorred the personal altercations which in these latter and
-degenerate days so often marred the course of public discussions between
-gentlemen entertaining opposite views upon public problems or private
-matters. And still more did he deplore the common street brawls, not
-unmarked by the use of lethal weapons and sometimes by tragically fatal
-results to one or the other of the parties engaged, which had been known
-before now to eventuate from the giving and taking of the offensive word,
-or blow. Hardly need the writer add that he had in mind the unfortunate
-affray of even date in a certain populous quarter of our city. Without
-mentioning names, he, <i>Veritas</i>, took that deplorable occurrence for
-his present text. It had inspired him to utter these words of protest
-against the vulgarity, the coarseness and the crassness of the methods
-employed for the appeasing of individual and personal wrongs. How much
-more dignified, how much more in keeping with the traditions of the soil,
-and the very history of this proud old commonwealth, was the system
-formerly in vogue among gentlemen for the adjudication of their private
-misunderstandings! Truly enough the law no longer sanctioned the
-employment of the <i>code duello</i>; indeed for the matter of that, the
-law of the land had never openly sanctioned it; but once upon a time a
-jealous regard for his own outraged honour had been deemed sufficient to
-lift a Southern gentleman to extremes above the mere written letter of the
-statutes. “<i>O tempora, O mores!</i> Oh, for the good old days!” And then
-came the signature.
-</p>
-<p>
-Barely had Mr. Montjoy concluded the reading and the re-reading of this,
-when Mr. Calhoun Tabscott was announced and promptly entered to proffer
-his hand and something more, besides. Mr. Tabscott carried with him a copy
-of the Daily Evening News opened at the inside page. His nostrils expanded
-with emotion, his form shook with it.
-</p>
-<p>
-In ten words these two—Mr. Montjoy as the person aggrieved and Mr.
-Tabscott as his next friend—found themselves in perfect accord as to
-the course which now should be pursued. At once then, Montjoy sat down at
-his mahogany writing desk and Mr. Tabscott sat down behind him where he
-could look over the other's shoulder and together they engaged in the
-labours of literary composition.
-</p>
-<p>
-But just before he seated himself Mr. Montjoy pointed a quivering finger
-at the desk and, in a voice which shook with restrained determination, he
-said impressively, in fact, dramatically:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Calhoun Tabscott, that desk belonged to my grandfather, the old General.
-He used it all his life—in Virginia first and then out here. At this
-moment, Calhoun Tabscott, I can almost feel him hovering above me, waiting
-to guide my pen.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And Mr. Tabscott said he felt that way about it, himself.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<p>
-In spare moments at home Judge Priest was addicted to the game of croquet.
-He played it persistently and very badly. In his side yard under his
-dining-room window rusted wickets stood in the ordained geometric pattern
-between painted goal posts, and in a box under a rustic bench in the
-little tottery summerhouse beneath the largest of the judge's silver leaf
-poplar trees were kept the balls and the mallets—which latter
-instruments the judge insisted on calling mauls. And here, in this open
-space, he might be found on many a fine afternoon congenially employed,
-with some neighbourhood crony or a chance caller for his antagonist.
-Often, of mornings, when he had a half hour or so of leisure, he practiced
-shots alone.
-</p>
-<p>
-On the morning which immediately followed the day of the broken-off joint
-debate at the boat-store corner, he was so engaged. He had his ball in
-excellent alignment and fair distance of the centre wickets, and was
-stooping to deliver the stroke when he became aware of his nephew
-approaching him hurriedly across the wide lawn.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Uncle Billy,” began that straightforward young man, “something has
-happened, and I've come to you with it right off.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Son,” said the judge, straightening up reluctantly, “something happens
-purty nigh every day. Whut's on your mind this mornin'?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, suh, I was eating breakfast a little bit ago, when that Cal
-Tabscott came to the front door. He sent word he wouldn't come in, so I
-went out to the door to see what it was he wanted. He was standing there
-stiff and formal as a ramrod, all dressed up in his Sunday clothes, and
-wearing a pair of gloves, too—this weather! And he bowed without a
-word and handed me a letter and when I opened it it was a challenge from
-Quint Montjoy—a challenge to fight a duel with him, me to name the
-weapons, the time and the place! That's what I've got to tell you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-His uncle's eyes opened innocently wide. “Boy, you don't tell me?” he
-said. “And whut did you do then?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, suh, I came within an ace of just hauling off and mashing that
-blamed idiot in the mouth—coming to my door with a challenge for a
-duel! But I remembered what you told me yesterday about keeping my temper
-and I didn't do it. Then I started to tear up that fool note and throw the
-pieces in his face.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You didn't do that neither, did you?” demanded the judge quickly, with
-alarm in his voice. “You kept it?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I didn't do that either and I kept the note,” replied the younger man,
-answering both questions at once. “I shut the door in Tabscott's face and
-left him on the doorstep and then I went and put on my hat and came right
-on over here to see you. Here's the note—I brought it along with
-me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-His uncle took from him the single sheet of note paper and adjusted his
-specks. He gazed admiringly for a moment at the embossed family crest at
-the top and read its contents through slowly.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ah hah,” he said; “seems to be regular in every respect, don't it?—polite,
-too. To the best of my remembrances I never seen one of these challenges
-before, but I should judge this here one is got up strictly accordin' to
-the Code. Son, our ancestors certainly were the great hands for goin'
-accordin' to the codes, weren't they? If it wasn't one Code, it was
-another, with, them old fellers. Quintus Q. Montjoy writes a nice hand,
-don't he?”
- </p>
-<p>
-With great care, he folded the note along its original crease, handling it
-as though it had been a fragile document of immense value and meanwhile
-humming a little tuneless tune abstractedly. Still humming, he put the
-paper in an ancient letter wallet, wrapped a leather string about the
-wallet, and returned wallet and string to the breast pocket of his black
-seersucker coat.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Son,” he said when all this had been accomplished, “I reckin you done the
-right thing in comin' straight to me. I must compliment you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, suh, much obliged,” said young Houser, “but, Uncle Billy, what would
-you advise my doing now?”
- </p>
-<p>
-He rubbed his forehead in perplexity.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Why, nothin'—nothin' a'tall,” bade his uncle, as though surprised
-at any suggestion of uncertainty upon the nephew's part. “You ain't got a
-thing to do, but jest to go on back home and finish up your breakfast. It
-ain't wise to start the day on an empty stomach, ever. After that, ef I
-was you, I would put in the remainder of the day remainin' perfectly ca'm
-and collected and whilst so engaged I wouldn't say nothin' to nobody about
-havin' received a challenge to fight a duel.” He regripped his mallet.
-“Son, watch me make this shot.” He stopped and squinted along the
-imaginary line from his ball to the wicket.
-</p>
-<p>
-“But, Uncle Billy, I——”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Son, please don't interrupt me ag'in. Jimmy Bagby is comin' over this
-evenin' to play off a tie match with me, and I aim to be in shape fur him
-when he does come. Now run along on back home like I told you to and keep
-your mouth shet.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The judge whacked his ball and made an effective shot—or rather an
-effective miss—and Tobe Houser betook himself away wagging his
-puzzled head in a vain effort to fathom the enigma of his relative's
-cryptic behaviour.
-</p>
-<p>
-Approximately thirty-six hours passed without public developments which
-might be construed as relating to the matter chiefly in hand and then—in
-the early afternoon—young Houser returned to the house of his uncle,
-this time, finding its owner stretched out for his after-dinner nap upon
-an old and squashy leather couch in the big old-timey sitting-room. The
-judge wasn't quite asleep yet. He roused as his nephew entered.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Uncle Billy,” began young Houser, without preamble, “you told me
-yesterday not to do anything and I've obeyed your orders although I didn't
-understand what you were driving at, exactly, but now I must do something
-if I aim to keep my self-respect or to stay in this race—either one,
-or both. Unless I take up the dare he's laid down in front of me,
-Montjoy's going to brand me on the stump as a coward. Yes, suh, that's his
-intention—Oh, it came to me straight. It seems Mrs. Horace K. Maydew
-told old Mrs. Whitridge this morning in strict confidence and Mrs.
-Whitridge just took her foot in hand and put out to tell Aunt Puss
-Lockfoot and Aunt Puss didn't lose any time getting through the alley gate
-into my back yard to tell my wife.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes, suh, if I keep silent and don't take any notice of his challenge,
-Montjoy's going to get up before this whole town at a mass meeting and
-denounce me as a coward,—he's going to say I'm willing enough to
-take advantage of being younger and stronger than he is to attack him with
-my bare hands, but that I'm afraid to back up my act where it puts my hide
-in danger. I know mighty good and well who's behind him, egging him on—I
-can see her finger in it plain enough. She hopes to see me humiliated and
-she hopes to see your chances hurt in your next race. She aims to strike
-at you through me and ruin us both, if she can.
-</p>
-<p>
-“But, Uncle Billy, all that being so, doesn't alter the situation so far
-as I'm concerned. The man doesn't live that can stand up and brand me as a
-sneaking quitting coward and not have to answer for it. One way or
-another, it will come to a pass where there's bound to be shooting. I've
-just got to do something and do it quick.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, son,” said Judge Priest, still flat on his back, “I sort of
-figgered it out that things might be takin' some sech a turn as this. I've
-heard a few of the rumours that're be-ginin' to creep round, myse'f. I
-reckin, after all, you will have to answer Mister Montjoy. In fact, I
-taken the trouble this mornin' to wrop up your answer and have it all
-ready to be sent over to Mister Montjoy's place of residence by the hands
-of my boy Jeff.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You wrapped it up?” queried Houser, bewildered again.
-</p>
-<p>
-“That's whut I said—I wropped it up,” answered the judge. He heaved
-himself upright and crossed the room to his old writing table that stood
-alongside one of the low front windows and from the desk took up a large
-squarish object, securely tied up in white paper with an address written
-upon one of its flat surfaces.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Jeff!” he called, “oh, you Jeff.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Why, Uncle Billy, that looks like a book to me,” said Mr. Houser.
-Assuredly, this was a most mystified young man.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It ain't no box of sugar kisses—you kin be shore of that much,
-anyway,” stated that inscrutable uncle of his. “You're still willin',
-ain't you, son, to set quiet and be guided by me in this matter?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, suh, I am. That is, I'm perfectly willing to take your advice up to
-a certain point but——”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then set right still and do so,” commanded Judge Priest. “I'm goin; to
-take you into my confidences jest as soon as I see how my way of doin' the
-thing works out. We oughter git some definite results before dark this
-evenin'. And listen here, son, a minute—when all's said and done
-even Quintus Q. Montjoy, Esquire, ain't no more of a stickler for
-follering after the Code than whut I am. I'm jest ez full of time-hallowed
-precedents ez he is—and maybe even more so.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Callin' me, Jedge?” The speaker was Jefferson Poindexter, who appeared at
-the door leading into the hall.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes, I was—been callin' you fur a half hour—more or less,”
- stated his master. “Jeff, you take this here parcel over to Mister Quintus
-Q. Montjoy's and present it with the compliments of Mister Houser. You
-needn't wait fur an answer—jest come on back. I reckin there won't
-be no answer fur some little time.” He turned again to his nephew with the
-air of a man who, having disposed of all immediate and pressing business
-affairs, is bent now upon pleasurable relaxation.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Son, ef you ain't got nothin' better to do this evenin' I wish't you'd
-stay here and keep score fur the tournament. Playing crokay, I licked the
-pants off'en that poor old Jimmy Bagby yis'tiddy, and now he wants to git
-even.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The judge spoke vaingloriously. “He's skeered to tackle me again
-single-handed, I reckin. So him and Father Tom Minor are coinin' over here
-to play me and Herman Felsburg a match game fur the crokay champeenship of
-Clay Street and adjacent thoroughfares. They oughter be here almost any
-minute now—I was jest layin' here, waitin' fur 'em and sort of
-souplin' up my muscles.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Playing magnificently as partners, Father Minor and Sergeant Bagby
-achieved a signal victory—score three to one—over the
-Felsburg-Priest team. The players, with the official referee who
-maintained a somewhat abstracted, not to say a pestered, air, were sitting
-in the little summer house, cooling off after the ardours of the sport.
-Jeff Poindexter had been dispatched indoors, to the dining-room sideboard,
-to mix and fetch the customary refreshments. The editor of the <i>Daily
-Evening News</i>, who was by way also of being chief newsgatherer of that
-dependable and popular journal, came up the street from the corner below
-and halted outside the fence.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Howdy, gentlemen!” over the paling he greeted them generally. “I've got
-some news for you-all. I came out of my way, going back to the office, to
-tell you.” He singled out the judge from the group. “Oh, you <i>Veritas</i>”
- he called, jovially.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Sh-h-h, Henry, don't be a-callin' me that,” spoke up Judge Priest with a
-warning glance about him and a heavy wink at the editor. “Somebody that's
-not in the family might hear you and git a false and a misleadin' notion
-about the presidin; circuit judge of this district. Whut's your news?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well,” said Mr. Tompkins, “it's sort of unprofessional to be revealing
-the facts before they're put in type but I reckon it's no great breach of
-ethics to tell a secret to an occasional contributor of signed
-communications—” he indicated Judge Priest, archly—“and the
-contributor's close friends and relatives. Anyhow, you'd all know it
-anyhow as soon as the paper comes out. Quintus Q. Montjoy is withdrawing
-from the race for State Senator.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What?” several voices spoke the word in chorus, only Sergeant Bagby
-pronounced it <i>Whut</i> and Mr. Felsburg sounded the <i>W</i> with the
-sound of <i>V</i> as in <i>Vocal.</i>
-</p>
-<p>
-“Montjoy quits. I've got his card of withdrawal right here in my pocket
-now. Tobe, allow me to congratulate you on your prospect of getting the
-nomination without any opposition at the polls.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Quits, does he?” echoed Judge Priest. “Well, do you boys know, I ain't
-surprised. I've been lookin' fur him to do somethin' of that nature fur
-the last two hours. I wonder whut delayed him?” He addressed the query to
-space.
-</p>
-<p>
-“He gives some reasons—maybe, yes?” asked Mr. Felsburg, releasing
-Mr. Houser's hand which he had been shaking with an explosive warmth.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, yes,” said Editor Tompkins, “I suppose he felt as if he had to do
-that. The principal reason he gives is that he finds he cannot spare the
-time from his business interests for making an extended canvass—and
-also his repugnance to engaging further in a controversy with a man who so
-far forgets himself as to resort to physical violence in the course of a
-joint debate upon the issues of the day. That's a nice little farewell
-side-slap at you, Houser.
-</p>
-<p>
-“But I gleaned from what I picked up after I got over to Montjoy's in
-answer to his telephone message asking me to call that there may have been
-other reasons which are not set forth in his card of withdrawal,”
- continued Mr. Tompkins. “In fact, about the time I got over there—to
-his house—Hod Maydew arrived in a free state of perspiration and
-excitement—Hod's been up in Louisville on business, you know, and
-didn't get in until the two-thirty train came—and I rather gathered
-from what he said a little bit ago to Quintus Q., in the privacy of the
-dining room while I was waiting in the library, that he was considerably
-put out about something. His voice sounded peeved—especially when he
-was calling Montjoy's attention to the fact that even if he should win the
-race now, he wouldn't be able to take the oath of office. Anyhow, I think
-that's what he was saying.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Say, Judge, just for curiosity's sake now and strictly between ourselves—just
-what was the message, or whatever it was, that you sent over to Montjoy's
-right after dinner? I overheard something about that too.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, that?” said the judge, as all eyes turned in his direction. “That was
-jest a spare copy of the Code that I happened to have 'round the house—with
-a page in it marked and turned down.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“The Code—what Code?” Mr. Tompkins pressed the point like the alert
-collector of news that he was.
-</p>
-<p>
-“The Code and the Statutes—with the accent on the Code,” answered
-the old judge, simply. “Although, speakin' pussonally, I pay more
-attention to the Statutes than some folks do. In fact it would seem like
-some persons who are reasonably well informed on most subjects—ancestors
-fur instance—ain't never took the time to peruse them old Statutes
-of ourn with the care they should give to 'em ef they're aimin' to engage
-in the job of bein' a statesman.” He faced his nephew. “Tobe, my son, this
-oughter be a great lesson to you—it's a work that'll bear
-consid'able study frum time to time. I'm afeared you ain't ez well posted
-on the subject ez you should be. Well, this is a mighty good time to
-begin. You kin take your first lesson right now.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He stooped and lifted the lid of the croquet box, beneath the bench upon
-which they had been sitting, and fetched forth a large, heavy volume,
-bound in splotchy law calf. “I put my other copy here jest a little while
-ago, thinkin' somebody might be interested later on in its contents,” he
-explained as he ran through the leaves until he came to a certain page.
-Upon that page, with a blunt forefinger, he indicated a certain paragraph
-as he handed the tome over to his nephew.
-</p>
-<p>
-“There, Tobe,” he ordered, “you've got a good strong voice. Read this here
-section—aloud.”
- </p>
-<p>
-So then, while the others listened, with slowly widening grins of
-comprehension upon their several faces, and while Judge Priest stood
-alongside, smiling softly, young Tobe read. And what he read was this:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oath to be taken by all officers—Form of Members of the General
-Assembly and all officers, before they enter upon the execution of the
-duties of their respective offices, and all members of the bar, before
-they enter upon the practice of their profession, shall take the following
-oath or affirmation: I do solemnly swear (or affirm, as the case may be)
-that I will support the Constitution of the United States and the
-Constitution of this Commonwealth, and be faithful and true to the
-Commonwealth of Kentucky so long as I continue a citizen thereof, and that
-I will faithfully execute, to the best of my ability, the office of
-—————— ——————
-according to law; and I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that since the
-adoption of the present Constitution, I, being a citizen of this State,
-have not fought a duel with deadly weapons within this State, nor out of
-it, nor have I sent or accepted a challenge to fight a duel with deadly
-weapons, nor have I acted as second in carrying a challenge, nor aided or
-assisted any person thus offending, so help me God.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Having read it aloud, young Houser now reread it silently to himself. He
-was rather a slow-thinking and direct-minded person. Perhaps time was
-needed for the full force and effect of the subject-matter to soak into
-him. It was Mr. Tompkins who spoke next.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Judge Priest,” he said, “what do you suppose those two fellows over
-yonder at Montjoy's are thinking about you right now?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Henry,” said Judge Priest, “fur thinkin' whut they do about me, I reckin
-both of them boys could be churched.”
- </p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-VII. FORREST'S LAST CHARGE
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>OWARD morning, after a spell of unusually even-tempered and moderate
-weather, it blew up cold, snowed hard for two or three hours, and turned
-off to be clear and freezing. The sun, coming up at seven-thirty-five,
-according to his curtailed December schedule, peeped out on a universe
-that was clothed all in white, whereas when he retired the night before in
-his west bedroom he left it wearing a motley of faded yellows and seasoned
-greens. Swinging in the east as a pale coppery disk, he blinked his
-astonishment through a ragged grey veil of the last of the storm clouds.
-</p>
-<p>
-Others beside the sun were taken by surprise. It was the first snowfall of
-the year and a good, hard, heavy one. Down our way, some winters, we had
-hardly any snows at all; then, again, some winters we had a plenty; but
-scarcely ever did we have them before Christmas. This one came as a
-profound and an annoying visitation, taking the community at large
-unawares and unprepared, and making a great nuisance of itself from the
-start. Practically without exception, doorstep hydrants had tight colds in
-the head that morning. On being treated with lavings of hot water they
-dripped catarrhally from their cast-iron noses for a little while and then
-developed the added symptoms of icicles.
-</p>
-<p>
-Cooks were hours late coming to cook breakfast, and when they did come
-uttered despairing moans to find range boilers frozen up and kitchen taps
-utterly unresponsive to first-aid measures. At some houses it was nearly
-eight o'clock before the milkman got round, with wooden runners under his
-milk wagon in place of wheels and rosaries of rusted sleigh bells on the
-necks of his smoking team. Last year's rubber boots came out of the closet
-and any old year's toy sled came out of the attic.
-</p>
-<p>
-The old negro man who did whitewashing in the spring, picked blackberries
-for his summertime living, and in the fall peddled corn-shuck doormats and
-scaly-bark hickory nuts, made the circuit of his regular patrons, equipped
-with a shovel over his shoulder and his venerable feet done up in burlaps,
-to shovel footpaths for a price. Where the wind piled the snow in little
-drifts he left a wake behind him as though a baby elephant had floundered
-through there.
-</p>
-<p>
-In the back yard Sir Rooster squawked his loud disgust as his naked legs
-sank shank-deep into the feathery mass. His harem, a row of still and
-huddled shapes on the roosts, clamped their chilled toes all the tighter
-to their perch and stared out through the chicken-house door at a
-transformed and unfamiliar world. With them—except for their eyes—rigor
-mortis seemed far advanced. Small boys, rabbit dogs, plumbers and the few
-persons in town who owned sleighs rejoiced. Housewives, house cats and
-thin-blooded old ladies and gentlemen were acutely miserable—and
-showed it.
-</p>
-<p>
-There were tramps about in numbers. It took a sudden cold snap, with snow
-accompaniments such as this one, to fetch the tramps forth from their
-sleeping places near the tracks, and make the citizen realise how many of
-these southbound soldiers of misfortune the town harboured on any given
-date between Thanksgiving Day and New Year's. Judge Priest did not know it—and
-probably would not have much cared if he had known it—but on the
-right-hand-side post of his front gate, just below the wooden letter box,
-was scratched the talismanic sign which, to an initiated nation-wide
-brotherhood, signified that here, at this place, was to be had free and
-abundant provender, with no stove wood to chop afterward and no heavy
-buckets of coal to pack in.
-</p>
-<p>
-Wherefore and hence, throughout the rising hour and well on into the
-forenoon, a succession of ragged and shivering travellers tracked a
-straggling path up his walk and round to the back door, coming, with noses
-a frostbitten red and hands a frostbitten blue, to beg for sustenance. It
-was part and parcel of the judge's creed of hospitality to turn no
-stranger away from his door unfed.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Jedge!” Aunt Dilsey Turner bulged into the old sitting room, where her
-master sat with his feet close to the grate toasting his shoesoles.
-“Jedge, they's 'nother one of 'em miz'ble wuthless w'ite trash out yere
-axin' fur vittles. Tha's de fo'th one inside er hour. Whut you reckin I
-best do wid 'im?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, Aunt Dilsey,” the old man answered, “ef vittles is what he asts
-fur, I believe, under the circumstances, I'd give him some.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Whar we goin' git vittles fur 'im?” she demanded.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Wasn't there anything left over frum breakfast?” He risked the inquiry
-mildly—almost timidly.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Breakfus'!” She sniffed her contempt for masculine ignorance. “Breakfus'?
-How long does you think one li'l' batch of breakfus' is goin' last round
-yere? I ain't never tek much fur myse'f—jes' swallers a mossil of
-hot coffee to stay my stomach, but you's suttinly a mighty stiddy feeder;
-and ez fur 'at nigger Jeff of yourn—huh!—he acks lak he wuz
-holler cl'ar down to his insteps. Ef dat nigger had de right name, de name
-would be Famine! 'Sides, ain't I done tole you they's been three of dem
-trafflin', no-'count vagroms here already dis mawnin', a-eatin' us plum'
-out of house and home? Naw, suh; dey ain't nary grain of breakfus' lef'—de
-platters is done lick' clean!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, Aunt Dilsey, ez a special favour to me, I'd be mighty much obliged
-to you ef you'd cook up a little somethin' fur the pore feller.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Po' feller! Po', you sez? Jedge, dat ole tramp out yonder at my kitchen
-do' is mighty nigh ez fat ez whut you is. Still, you's de cap'n. Ef you
-sez feed 'im, feed 'im I does. Only don't you come round blamin' me w'en
-we-all lands in de po'house—tha's all I asts you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And out the black tyrant flounced, leaving the judge grinning to himself.
-Aunt Dilsey's bark was worse than her bite and there was no record of her
-having bitten anybody. Nevertheless, in order to make sure that no
-breakfast applicant departed hungry, he lingered on past his usual time
-for starting the day's work. It was cozily warm in his sitting room. Court
-was not in session either, having adjourned over for the holidays. It was
-getting well on toward ten o'clock when, with Jeff Poindexter's aid, he
-struggled into his ancient caped overcoat and buckled his huge red-lined
-galoshes on over his shoes, and started downtown.
-</p>
-<p>
-Midway of the next block a snowball sailed out and over from behind a
-hedge fence and knocked his old black slouch hat half off his head.
-Showing surprising agility for one of his years and bulk, he ran down the
-fleeing sharpshooter who had fired on him; and, while with one hand he
-held the struggling youngster fast, with the other he vigorously washed
-his captive's face in loose snow until the captive bawled for mercy. Then
-the judge gave him a dime to console him for his punishment and went on
-his way with a pleasant tingling in his blood and a ruby tip on his
-already well-ruddied nose.
-</p>
-<p>
-His way took him to Soule's Drug Store, the gathering place of his set in
-fair weather and in foul. He was almost there before he heard of the
-trouble. It was Dave Baum who brought the first word of it. Seeing him
-pass, Dave came running, bareheaded, out of his notions store.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Judge Priest, did you know what's just happened?” Dave was highly
-excited. “Why, Beaver Yancy's been cut all to pieces with a dirk knife by
-one of those Dagos that was brought on here to work on the new extension—that's
-what just happened! It happened just a little bit ago, down there where
-they've got those Dagos a-keepin' 'em. Beave, he must've said somethin;
-out of the way to him, and he just up with his dirk knife and cut Beave to
-ribbons.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Really it required much less time for little Mr. Baum to make this
-statement than it has taken for me to transcribe it or for you to read it.
-In his haste he ran the syllables together. Dan Settle came up behind them
-in time to catch the last words and he pieced out the narrative:
-</p>
-<p>
-“They toted poor old Beaver into Doctor Lake's office—I just came
-from there—there's a big crowd waitin' to hear how he comes out.
-They don't think he's goin' to live but a little while. They ain't got the
-one that did the cuttin'—yet. There's quite a lot of feelin'
-already.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That's what the railroad gets for bringin' all those foreigners down
-here.” Mr. Baum, who was born in Bavaria, spoke with bitterness. “Judge,
-what do you think ought to be done about this business?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, son,” said Judge Priest, “to begin with, ef I was you I'd run back
-inside of my store and put my hat on before I ketched a bad cold. And ef I
-was the chief of police of this city I'd find the accused party and lock
-him up good and tight. And ef I was everybody else I'd remain ez ca'm ez I
-could till I'd heared both sides of the case. There's nearly always two
-sides to every case, and sometimes there's likely to be three or four
-sides. I expect to impanel a new grand jury along in January and I
-wouldn't be surprised ef they looked into the matter purty thoroughly.
-They ginerally do.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It's too bad, though, about Beaver Yancy!” added the judge; “I certainly
-trust he pulls through. Maybe he will—he's powerful husky. There's
-one consolation—he hasn't got any family, has he?”
- </p>
-<p>
-And, with that, Judge Priest left them and went on down the snow-piled
-street and turned in at Mr. Soule's door. What with reading a Louisville
-paper and playing a long game of checkers with Squire Rountree behind the
-prescription case, and telephoning to the adjutant regarding that night's
-meeting of Gideon K. Irons Camp, and at noontime eating a cove oyster stew
-which a darky brought him from Sherill's short-order restaurant, two doors
-below, and doing one thing and another, he spent the biggest part of the
-day inside of Soule's and so missed his chance to observe the growing and
-the mounting of popular indignation.
-</p>
-<p>
-It would seem Beaver Yancy had more friends than any unprejudiced observer
-would have credited him with having. Mainly they were the type of friends
-who would not have lent him so much as fifty cents under any conceivable
-circumstance, but stood ready to shed human blood on his account.
-Likewise, as the day wore on, and the snow, under the melting influence of
-the sun, began to run off the eaves and turn to slush in the streets, a
-strong prejudice against the presence of alien day labourers developed
-with marvellous and sinister rapidity.
-</p>
-<p>
-Yet, had those who cavilled but stopped long enough to take stock of
-things, they might have read this importation as merely one of the
-manifestations of the change that was coming over our neck of the woods—the
-same change that had been coming for years, and the same that inevitably
-would continue coming through years to follow.
-</p>
-<p>
-Take for example, Legal Row—that short street of stubby little brick
-buildings where all the lawyers and some of the doctors had their offices.
-Summer after summer, through the long afternoons, the tenants had sat
-there in cane-bottomed chairs tilted back against the housefronts,
-swapping gossip and waiting for a dog fight or a watermelon cutting to
-break the monotony. But Legal Row was gone now and lawyers did not sit out
-on the sidewalks any more; it was not dignified. They were housed, most of
-them, on the upper floor levels of the sky-scraping Planters' Bank
-building. Perhaps Easterners would not have rated it as a skyscraper; but
-in our country the skies are low and friendly skies, and a structure of
-eight stories, piled one on the other, with a fancy cornice to top off
-with, rears mightily high and imposing when about it, for contrast, are
-only two and three and four story buildings.
-</p>
-<p>
-Kettler's wagon yard, where the farmers used to bring their tobacco for
-overnight storage, and where they slept on hay beds in the back stalls,
-with homemade bedquilts wrapped round them, had been turned into a garage
-and smelled now of gasoline, oils and money transactions. A new brick
-market house stood on the site of the old wooden one. A Great White Way
-that was seven blocks long made the business district almost as bright as
-day after dark—almost, but not quite. There was talk of establishing
-a civic centre, with a regular plaza, and a fountain in the middle of the
-plaza. There was talk of trying the commission form of government. There
-was talk of adopting a town slogan; talk of an automobile club and of a
-country club. And now white labour, in place of black, worked on a
-construction job.
-</p>
-<p>
-When, after many false alarms, the P. A. & O. V. got its Boaz Ridge
-Extension under way the contractors started with negro hands; but the gang
-bosses came from up North, whence the capital had likewise come, and they
-did not understand the negroes and the negroes did not understand them,
-and there was trouble from the go-off. If the bosses fraternised with the
-darkies the darkies loafed; if, taking the opposite tack, the bosses tried
-to drive the gangs under them with hard words the gangs grew sullen and
-insolent.
-</p>
-<p>
-There was a middle ground, but the perplexed whites could not find it. A
-Southem-born overseer or a Southem-born steamboat mate could have harried
-the crews with loud profanity, with dire threats of mutilation and violent
-death, and they would have grinned back at him cheerfully and kept right
-on at their digging and their shovelling. But when a grading expert named
-Flaherty, from Chicago, Illinois, shook a freckled fist under the nose of
-one Dink Bailey, coloured, for whom, just the night before, he had bought
-drinks in a groggery, the aforesaid Dink Bailey tried to disarticulate him
-with a razor and made very fair headway toward the completion of the
-undertaking, considering he was so soon interrupted.
-</p>
-<p>
-Having a time limit ever before their pestered eyes, it sorely irked the
-contractors that, whereas five hundred black, brown and yellow men might
-drop their tools Saturday night at six o'clock, a scant two hundred or so
-answered when the seven-o'clock whistle blew on Monday morning. The others
-came straggling back on Tuesday or Wednesday, or even on Thursday,
-depending on how long their wages held out.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Whut I wants to go to work fur, Mist' W'ite Man? I got 'most two dollars
-lef.' Come round to see me w'en all dat's done spent and mebbe we kin talk
-bus'ness 'en.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The above statement, made by a truant grading hand to an inquiring grading
-boss, was typical of a fairly common point of view on the side of Labour.
-And this one, below, which sprang from the exasperated soul of a visiting
-contractor, was just as typical, for it was the cry of outraged Capital:
-</p>
-<p>
-“It takes two white men, standing over every black man, to make the black
-man work—and then he won't! I never was a Southern sympathiser
-before, but I am now—you bet!”
- </p>
-<p>
-The camel's back broke entirely at the end of the third week. It was a
-green paymaster from the Chicago offices who furnished the last straw. He
-tried to pay off with paper money. Since those early postbellum days, when
-the black brother, being newly freed from servitude and innocently devoid
-of the commercial instinct, thought the white man's money, whether stamped
-on metal disks or printed on parchment rectangulars, was always good
-money, and so accepted much Confederate currency, to his sorrow at the
-time and to his subsequent enlightenment, he has nourished a deep
-suspicion of all cash except the kind that jingles; in fact, it is rarely
-that he will accept any other sort.
-</p>
-<p>
-Give him the hard round silver and he is well-content. That is good money—money
-fit to buy things with. He knows it is, because it rattles in the pocket
-and it rings on the bar; but for him no greenbacks, if you please. So when
-this poor ignorant paymaster opened up his satchel and spread out his ones
-and his twos, his fives and his tens, his treasury certificates and his
-national bank notes, there was a riot.
-</p>
-<p>
-Then the contractors just fired the whole outfit bodily; and they
-suspended operations, leaving the fills half-filled and the cuts half-dug
-until they could fetch new shifts of labourers from the North. They
-fetched them—a trainload of overalled Latins, and some of these were
-tall and swarthy men, and more were short, fair men; but all were capable
-of doing a full day's work.
-</p>
-<p>
-Speedily enough, the town lost its first curious interest in the
-newcomers. Indeed, there was about them nothing calculated to hold the
-public interest long. They played no guitars, wore no handkerchief
-headdresses, offered to kidnap no small children, and were in no respect a
-picturesque race of beings. They talked their own outlandish language,
-dined on their own mysterious messes, slept in their bunks in the long
-barracks the company knocked together for them in the hollow down by the
-Old Fort, hived their savings, dealt with their employers through a paid
-translator, and beautifully minded their own business, which was the
-putting through of the Boaz Ridge Extension. Sundays a few came clunking
-in their brogans to early mass in Father Minor's church; the rest of the
-time they spent at the doing of their daily stint or in camp at their own
-peculiar devices.
-</p>
-<p>
-Tony Palassi, who ran the biggest fruit stand in town, paid them one brief
-visit—and one only—and came away, spitting his disgust on the
-earth. It appeared that they were not his kind of people at all, these
-being but despised Sicilians and he by birth a haughty Roman, and by
-virtue of naturalisation processes a stalwart American; but everybody knew
-already, without being told, that there was a difference, and a big
-difference. A blind man could see it.
-</p>
-<p>
-Tony, now, was a good fellow—one with sporting blood in his veins.
-Tony was a member of the Elks and of the Knights of Columbus. He owned and
-he drove one of the smartest trotting horses in the county. He played a
-brisk game of poker. Once a month he sent a barrel of apples or a bunch of
-bananas or a box of oranges, as a freewill offering, to the children out
-at the Home for the Friendless—in short, Tony belonged. Nobody ever
-thought of calling Tony a Dago, and nobody ever had—more than once;
-but these other fellows, plainly, were Dagos and to be regarded as such.
-For upward of a month now their presence in the community had meant little
-or nothing to the community, one way or the other, until one of them so
-far forgot himself as to carve up Beaver Yancy.
-</p>
-<p>
-The railroad made a big mistake when it hired Northern bosses to handle
-black natives; it made another when it continued to retain Beaver Yancy,
-of our town, in its employ after the Sicilians came, he being a person
-long of the arm and short of the temper. Even so, things might have gone
-forward to a conclusion without misadventure had it not been that on the
-day before the snow fell the official padrone of the force, who was
-likewise the official interpreter, went North on some private business of
-his own, leaving his countrymen without an intermediary during his
-absence. It came to pass, therefore, that on the December morning when
-this account properly begins, Beaver Yancy found himself in sole command
-of a battalion whose tongue he did not speak and whose ways he did not
-know.
-</p>
-<p>
-At starting time he ploughed his way through the drifts to the long plank
-shanty in the bottoms and threw open a door. Instead of being up and
-stirring, his charges lay in their bunks against the walls, all of them
-stretched out comfortably there, except a half dozen or so who brewed
-garlicky mixtures on the big stoves that stood at intervals in a row down
-the middle of the barracks. Employing the only language he knew, which was
-a profanely emphatic language, he ordered them to get up, get out and get
-to work. By shakes of the head, by words of smiling dissent and by
-gestures they made it plain to his understanding that for this one day at
-least they meant to do no labour in the open.
-</p>
-<p>
-One more tolerant than Beaver Yancy, or perhaps one more skilled at
-translating signs, would have divined their reasons readily enough. They
-had come South expecting temperate weather. They did not like snow. They
-were not clad for exposure to snow. Their garments were thin and their
-shoes leaked. Therefore would they abide where they were until the snow
-had melted and the cold had moderated. Then they would work twice as hard
-to make up for this holiday.
-</p>
-<p>
-The burly, big, overbearing man in the doorway was of a different frame of
-mind. In the absence of his superior officers and the padrone, his duty
-was to see that they pushed that job to a conclusion. He'd show 'em! He
-would make an example of one and the others would heed the lesson. He laid
-violent grasp on a little man who appeared to be a leader of opinion among
-his fellows and, with a big, mittened hand in the neckband of the other's
-shirt, dragged him, sputtering and expostulating, across the threshold
-and, with hard kicks of a heavy foot, heavily booted, propelled him out
-into the open.
-</p>
-<p>
-The little man fell face forward into the snow. He bounced up like a chunk
-of new rubber. He had been wounded most grievously in his honour, bruised
-most painfully and ignominiously elsewhere. He jumped for the man who had
-mishandled him, his knifeblade licking out like a snake's tongue. He
-jabbed three times, hard and quick—then fled back indoors; and for a
-while, until help came in the guise of two children of a shanty-boater's
-family on their way to the railroad yards to pick up bits of coal, Beaver
-Yancy lay in the snow where he had dropped, bleeding like a stuck pig. He
-was not exactly cut to ribbons. First accounts had been exaggerated as
-first accounts so frequently are. But he had two holes in his right lung
-and one in the right side of his neck, and it was strongly presumptive
-that he would never again kick a Sicilian day labourer—or, for that
-matter, anybody else.
-</p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest, speaking dispassionately from the aloof heights of the
-judicial temperament, had said it would be carrying out an excellent and
-timely idea if the chief of police found the knife-using individual and
-confined him in a place that was safe and sound; which, on being apprised
-of the occurrence, was exactly what the chief of police undertook to do.
-Accompanied by two dependable members of his day shift, he very promptly
-set out to make an arrest and an investigation; but serious obstacles
-confronted him.
-</p>
-<p>
-To begin with, he had not the faintest notion of the criminal's identity
-or the criminal's appearance. The man he wanted was one among two hundred;
-but which one was he? Beaver Yancy, having been treated in Doctor Lake's
-office, was now at the city hospital in no condition to tell the name of
-his assailant even had he known it, or to describe him either, seeing that
-loss of blood, pain, shock and drugs had put him beyond the power of
-coherent speech. Nevertheless, the chief felt it a duty incumbent on him
-to lose no time in visiting what the <i>Daily Evening News</i>, with a
-touch of originality, called “the scene of the crime.” This he did.
-</p>
-<p>
-Everything was quiet on the flatlands below the Old Fort when he got
-there, an hour after the stabbing. Midway between the bluff that marked
-the rim of the hollow and the fringe of willows along the river, stood the
-long plank barracks of the imported hands. Smoke rose from the stovepipes
-that broke the expanse of its snow-covered roof; about one door was a maze
-of tracks and crosstracks; at a certain place, which was, say,
-seventy-five feet from the door, the snow was wallowed and flurried as
-though a heavy oxhide had been dragged across its surface; and right there
-a dark spot showed reddish brown against the white background.
-</p>
-<p>
-However, no figures moved and no faces showed at the small windows as the
-chief and his men, having floundered down the hill, cautiously approached
-the silent building; and when he knocked on the door with the end of his
-hickory walking stick, and knocked and knocked again, meantime demanding
-admittance in the name of the law, no one answered his knock or his hail.
-Losing patience, he put his shoulder to the fastened door and, with a
-heave, broke it away from its hinges and its hasp, so that it fell inward.
-</p>
-<p>
-Through the opening he took a look, then felt in his overcoat pocket for
-his gun, making ready to check a rush with revolver shots if needs be; but
-there was no rush. Within the place two hundred frightened, desperate men
-silently confronted him. Some who had pistols were wearing them now in
-plain sight. Others had knives and had produced them. All had picks and
-shovels—dangerous enough weapons at close quarters in the hands of
-men skilled in the use of them.
-</p>
-<p>
-Had the big-hatted chief been wise in the ways of these men, he might
-peacefully have attained his object by opening his topcoat and showing his
-blue uniform, his brass buttons and his gold star; but naturally he did
-not think of that, and as he stood there before them, demanding of them,
-in a language they did not know, to surrender the guilty one, he was
-ulstered, like any civilian, from his throat to the tops of his rubber
-boots.
-</p>
-<p>
-In him the foreigners, bewildered by the sudden turn in events, saw only a
-menacing enemy coming, with no outward show of authority about him, to
-threaten them. They went right on at their task of barricading the windows
-with strips of planking tom from their bunks. They had food and they had
-fuel, and they had arms. They would stand a siege, and if they were
-attacked they would fight back. In all they did, in all their movements,
-in their steadfast stare, he read their intent plainly enough.
-</p>
-<p>
-Gabriel Henley was no coward, else he would not have been serving his
-second term as our chief of police; but likewise and furthermore he was no
-fool. He remembered just then that the town line ended at the bluff behind
-him. Technically, at least, the assault on Beaver Yancy had been committed
-outside his jurisdiction; constructively this job was not a job for the
-city, but for the county officials. He backed away, and as he retired
-sundry strong brown hands replaced the broken door and began making it
-fast with props and improvised bars. The chief left his two men behind to
-keep watch—an entirely unnecessary precaution, since none of the
-beleaguered two hundred, as it turned out, had the slightest intention of
-quitting his present shelter; and he hurried back uptown, pondering the
-situation as he went.
-</p>
-<p>
-On his way to the sheriff's office he stopped by Palassi's fruit store. As
-the only man in town who could deal with Sicilians in their own tongue,
-Tony might help out tremendously; but Tony wasn't in. Mrs. Palassi, née
-Callahan, regretted to inform him that Tony had departed for Memphis on
-the early train to see about certain delayed Christmas shipments of
-oranges and bananas. To the youth of our town oranges and bananas were
-almost as necessary as firecrackers in the proper celebration of the
-Christmas. And when he got to the courthouse the chief found the sheriff
-was not in town either.
-</p>
-<p>
-He had started at daylight for Hopkinsburg to deliver an insane woman at
-the state asylum there; one of his deputies had gone with him. There was a
-second deputy, to be sure; but he was an elderly man and a chronic
-rheumatic, who mainly handled the clerical affairs of the office—he
-never had tried to arrest anyone in his whole life, and he expressed doubt
-that the present opportunity was auspicious for an opening experiment in
-that direction.
-</p>
-<p>
-Under the circumstances, with the padrone away, with Tony Palassi away,
-with the sheriff away, and with the refuge of the culprit under close
-watch, Chief of Police Henley decided just to sit down and wait—wait
-for developments; wait for guidance; perhaps wait for popular sentiment to
-crystallize and, in process of its crystallization, give him a hint as to
-the steps proper to be taken next. So he sat him down at his roll-top desk
-in the old City Hall, with his feet on the stove, and he waited.
-</p>
-<p>
-Had our efficient chief divined the trend of opinion as it was to be
-expressed during the day by divers persons in divers parts of the town, it
-is possible he might have done something, though just what that something
-might have been, I for one confess I do not know—and I do not think
-the chief knew either. There was a passion of anger abroad. This anger was
-to rise and spread when word circulated—as it very shortly did—that
-those other Dagos were harbouring and protecting the particular Dago who
-had done the cutting.
-</p>
-<p>
-Such being the case, did not that make them outlaws too—accessories
-after the fact, comalefactors? The question was asked a good many times in
-a good many places and generally the answer was the same. And how about
-letting these murderous, dirk-toting pauper labourers come pouring down
-from the slums of the great cities to take the bread right out of the
-mouths of poor, hard-working darkies? With the sudden hostility to the
-white stranger rose an equally sudden sympathy for the lot of the black
-neighbour whose place he had usurped. Besides, who ever saw one of the
-blamed Dagos spending a cent at a grocery, or a notions store, or a saloon—or
-anywhere? Money earned in the community ought to be spent in the
-community. What did the railroad mean by it anyway?
-</p>
-<p>
-Toward the middle of the afternoon somebody told somebody else—who,
-in turn, told everybody he met—that poor old Beaver was sinking
-fast; the surgeons agreed that he could not live the night out. Despite
-the rutted snow underfoot and the chill temperature, now rapidly dropping
-again to the freezing point and below it, knots of men began to gather on
-the streets discussing one topic—and one only.
-</p>
-<p>
-Standing at the Richland House corner and addressing an entirely congenial
-gathering of fifteen or so who had just emerged from the Richland House
-bar, wiping their mouths and their moustaches, a self-appointed spokesman
-ventured the suggestion that it had been a long time between lynchings.
-Maybe if people just turned in and mobbed a few of these bloodthirsty
-Dagos it would give the rest of them a little respect for law and order?
-What if they didn't get the one that did the cutting? They could get a few
-of his friends, couldn't they—and chase all the others out of the
-country, and out of the state? Well, then, what more could a fair-minded
-citizen ask? And if the police force could not or would not do its duty in
-the premises, was it not up to the people themselves to act?—or
-words to that general effect. In the act of going back inside for another
-round of drinks the audience agreed with the orator unanimously, and
-invited him to join them; which he did.
-</p>
-<p>
-Serenely unaware of these things, Judge Priest spent his day at Soule's
-Drug Store, beat Squire Roundtree at checkers, went trudging home at dusk
-for supper and, when supper was eaten, came trudging back downtown again,
-still hap-pily ignorant of the feeling that was in the icy air. Eight
-o'clock found him in the seat of honour on the platform at Kamleiter's
-Hall, presiding over the regular semi-monthly meeting of Gideon K. Irons
-Camp.
-</p>
-<p>
-Considering weather conditions, the judge, as commandant, felt a throb of
-pride at the size of the attendance. Twenty-two elderly gentlemen answered
-to their names when the adjutant, old Professor Reese, of the graded
-school, called the roll. Two or three more straggled in, bundled up out of
-all their proper proportions, in time to take part in the subsequent
-discussion of new business. Under that elastic heading the Camp agreed to
-co-operate with the Daughters in a campaign to raise funds for a monument
-to the memory of General Meriwether Grider, dead these many years; voted
-fifty dollars out of the Camp treasury for the relief of a dead comrade's
-widow; and listened to a reminiscence of the retreat from Atlanta by
-Sergeant Jimmy Bagby.
-</p>
-<p>
-One overhearing might have gathered from the tenor of the sergeant's
-remarks that, if King's Hell Hounds had been given but the proper support
-in that campaign, the story of Sherman's March to the Sea would have a
-vastly different ending from the one set forth in the schoolbooks and the
-histories. In conclusion, and by way of a diversion from the main topic,
-Sergeant Bagby was launching on a circumstantial recital of a certain
-never-to-be-forgotten passage of words between General Buckner and General
-Breckenridge on a certain momentous and historic occasion, when an
-interruption occurred, causing him to break off in the middle of his
-opening sentence.
-</p>
-<p>
-Old Press Harper, from three miles out in the county, was sitting well
-back toward the rear of the little hall. It is possible that his attention
-wandered from the subject in hand. He chanced to glance over his shoulder
-and, through the frosted panes of a back window, he caught a suffused
-reflection. Instantly he was on his feet.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Hey, boys!” called out Mr. Harper. “Somethin's on fire—looky
-yander!”
- </p>
-<p>
-He ran to the window. With his sleeve he rubbed a patch clear on the
-sweated pane and peered out. Others followed <i>him</i>. Sashes were
-hoist, and through each of the three window openings in the back wall
-protruded a cluster of heads—heads that were pinky-bald,
-grey-grizzled or cottony-white, as the case might be.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You bet there's a fire, and a good hot one! See them blazes shootin' up.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Must be down by the Old Fort. D'ye reckin it could be the old plough
-factory bumin' up?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Couldn't be that far away, could it, Bony? Looks closer'n that to me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Fires always seem closer than what they really are—that's been my
-experience.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Listen, boys, for the engines—they ought to be startin' now in a
-minute.”
- </p>
-<p>
-They listened; but, though the fire bell in the City Hall tower, two
-blocks away, was sounding in measured beats, no clatter of hoofs, no
-clamour of fast-turning wheels, rose in the street below or in any
-neighbouring street. Only the red flare widened across the northern
-horizon, deepening and brightening, and shot through in its centre with
-lacings of flame.
-</p>
-<p>
-“That's funny! I don't hear 'em. Well, anyway, I'm a-goin'.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Me, too, Press.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The windows were abandoned. There was a rush for the corner where
-overcoats had been swung on hooks and overshoes had been kicked back
-against the baseboard. Various elderly gentlemen began adjusting earmuffs
-and mufflers, and spearing with their arms at elusive sleeve openings. The
-meeting stood adjourned without having been adjourned.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Coming, Billy?” inquired Mr. Nap. B. Crump in the act of hastily winding
-two yards of red knitted worsted about his throat.
-</p>
-<p>
-“No; I reckin not,” said Judge Priest. “It's a mighty bitter night fur
-folks to be driv' out of their homes in this weather. I'm sorry fur 'em,
-whoever they are—but I reckin I couldn't do no good ef I went. You
-young fellers jest go ahead without me—I'm sort of gittin' along too
-fur in years to be runnin' to other people's fires. I've got one of my own
-to go to—out there in my old settin' room on Clay Street.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He rose slowly from his chair and stepped round from behind the table,
-then halted, cant-ing his head to one side.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Listen, boys! Ain't that somebody runnin' up the steps?”
- </p>
-<p>
-It surely was. There was a thud of booted feet on the creaking boards.
-Somebody was coming three stairs at a jump. The door flew open and Circuit
-Clerk Elisha Milam staggered in, gasping for breath. They assailed him
-with questions.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Hey, Lisha, where's the fire?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It's that construction camp down below town burning up,” he answered
-between pants. “How did it get started?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It didn't get started—somebody started it. Gentlemen, there's
-trouble beginning down yonder. Where's Judge Priest?... Oh, yes, there he
-is!”
- </p>
-<p>
-He made for Judge Priest where the judge still stood on the little
-platform, and all the rest trailed behind him, scrouging up to form a
-close circle about those two, with hands stirruped behind faulty ears and
-necks craned forward to hear what Mr. Milam had to say. His story wasn't
-long, the blurting way he told it, but it carried an abundant thrill.
-Acting apparently in concert with others, divers unknown persons, creeping
-up behind the barracks of the construction crew, had fired the building
-and fled safely away without being detected by its dwellers or by the
-half-frozen watchers of the police force on the hillock above. At least
-that was the presumption in Mr. Milam's mind, based on what he had just
-heard.
-</p>
-<p>
-The fire, spreading fast, had driven the Sicilians forth, and they were
-now massed under the bluff with their weapons. The police force—eight
-men, all told, constituted the night shift—hesitated to act,
-inasmuch as the site of the burning camp lay fifty yards over the town
-line, outside of town limits. The fire department was helpless. Notice had
-been served at both the engine houses, in the first moment of the alarm,
-that if the firemen unreeled so much as a single foot of hose it would be
-cut with knives—a vain threat, since all the water plugs were frozen
-up hard and fast anyhow. The sheriff and his only able-bodied deputy were
-in Hopkinsburg, eighty miles away; and an armed mob of hundreds was
-reported as being on the way from its rendezvous in the abandoned plough
-factory to attack the foreigners.
-</p>
-<p>
-Mr. Milam, essentially a man of peace, had learned these things at first
-hand, or at second, and had hastened hotfoot to Kamleiter's Hall for the
-one man to whom, in times of emergency, he always looked—his
-circuit-court judge. He didn't know what Judge Priest could do or would do
-in the face of a situation so grave; but at least he had done his duty—he
-had borne the word. In a dozen hasty gulping sentences he told his tale
-and finished it; and then, by way of final punctuation, a chorus of
-exclamatory sounds—whistled, grunted and wheezed—rose from his
-auditors.
-</p>
-<p>
-As for Judge Priest, he, for a space of seconds after Mr. Milam had
-concluded, said nothing at all. The rapping of his knuckled fist on the
-tabletop alongside him broke in sharply on the clamour. They faced him
-then and he faced them; and it is possible that, even in the excitement of
-the time, some among them marked how his plump jaws had socketed
-themselves into a hard, square-mortise shape, and how his tuft of white
-chin beard bristled out at them, and how his old blue eyes blazed into
-their eyes. And then Judge Priest made a speech to them—a short,
-quick speech, but the best speech, so his audience afterward agreed, that
-ever they heard him make.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Boys,” he cried, lifting his high, shrill voice yet higher and yet
-shriller, “I'm about to put a motion to you and I want a vote on it purty
-dam' quick! They've been sayin' in this town that us old soldiers was
-gittin' too old to take an active hand in the affairs of this community
-any longer; and at the last election, ez you all know, they tried fur to
-prove it by retirin' most of the veterans that offered themselves ez
-candidates fur re-election back to private life.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I ain't sayin' they wasn't partly right neither; fur here we've been
-sittin' this night, like a passel of old moo-cows, chewin' the cud of
-things that happened forty-odd year' ago, and never suspicionin' nothin'
-of what was goin' on, whilst all round us men, carried away by passion and
-race prejudice, have been plottin' to break the laws and shed blood and
-bring an everlastin' disgrace on the reppitation fur peace and good order
-of this fair little city of ourn. But maybe it ain't too late yit fur us
-to do our duty ez citizens and ez veterans. Oncet on a time—a mighty
-long while ago—we turned out to pertect our people ag'inst an armed
-invader. Let's show 'em we ain't too old or too feeble to turn out oncet
-more to pertect them ag'inst themselves.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He reared back, and visibly, before their eyes, his short fat figure
-seemed to lengthen by cubits.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I move that Gideon K. Irons Camp of United Confederate Veterans, here
-assembled, march in a body right now to save—ef we can—these
-poor Eyetalians who are strangers in a strange and a hosstil land from
-bein' mistreated, and to save—ef we can—our misguided fellow
-townsmen from sufferin' the consequences of their own folly and their own
-foolishness. Do I hear a second to that motion?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Did he hear a second to his motion? He heard twenty-five seconds to it,
-all heaved at him together, with all the blaring strength of twenty-five
-pairs of elderly lungs. Sergeant Jimmy Bagby forgot parliamentary usage.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Will we go?” whooped Sergeant Bagby, waving his pudgy arms aloft so that
-his mittened hands described whizzing red circles in the air. “You betcher
-sweet life we'll go! We'll go through hell and high water—with' you
-as our commandin' officer, Billy Priest.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You betcher! That's the ticket!” A whoop of approval went up.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, then, ef that's the way you feel about it—come on!” their
-leader bade them; and they rushed for the door, sweeping the circuit clerk
-aside. “No; wait jest a minute!” He singled out the jostled Mr. Milam.
-“Lishy, you've got the youngest, spriest legs of anybody here. Run on
-ahead—won't you?—and find Father Minor. He'll be at the priest
-house back of his church. Tell him to jine up with us as quick as ever the
-Lord'll let him. We'll head down Harrison Street.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Mr. Milam vanished. With a wave of his arm, the judge comprehended those
-who remained.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Nearly everybody here served one time or another under old Nathan Bedford
-Forrest. The rest would 'a' liked to. I reckin this here is goin' to be
-the last raid and the last charge that Forrest's Cavalry, mounted or
-dismounted, ever will make! Let's do it regular—open up that there
-wardrobe-chist yonder, some of you, and git what's inside!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Hurried old hands fumbled at the catches of a weather-beaten oaken cabinet
-on the platform and plucked forth the treasured possessions of the Camp—the
-dented bugle; the drum; the slender, shiny, little fife; the silken flag,
-on its short polished staff.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Fall in—by twos!” commanded Judge Priest. “<i>Forward—march!</i>”
- </p>
-<p>
-Half a minute later the gasjets that lighted Kamleiter's Hall lighted only
-emptiness—an empty chest in a corner; empty chairs, some overturned
-on their sides, some upright on their legs; an empty hall doorway opening
-on an empty patch of darkness; and one of Judge Priest's flannel-lined
-galoshes, gaping emptily where it had been forgotten.
-</p>
-<p>
-From the street below rose a measured thud of feet on the hard-packed
-snow. Forrest's Cavalry was on the march!
-</p>
-<p>
-With bent backs straightening to the call of a high, strong impulse; with
-gimpy, gnarled legs rising and falling in brisk unison; with heads held
-high and chests puffed out; with their leader in front of them and their
-flag going before them—Forrest's Cavalry went forward. Once and once
-only the double line stopped as it traversed the town, lying snug and for
-the most part still under its blanketing, of snow.
-</p>
-<p>
-As the little column of old men swung round the first corner below
-Kamleiter's Hall, the lights coming through the windows of Tony Palassi's
-fruit shop made bright yellow patches on the white path they trod.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Halt!” ordered Judge Priest suddenly; and he quit his place in the lead
-and made for the doorway.
-</p>
-<p>
-“If you're looking for Tony to go along and translate you're wasting time,
-Judge,” sang' out Mr. Crump. “He's out-of town.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Is he?” said Judge Priest. “Well, that's too bad!”
- </p>
-<p>
-As though to make sure, he peered in through the glassed upper half of the
-fruitshop door. Within might be seen Mrs. Delia Callahan Palassi, wife of
-the proprietor, putting the place to rights before locking it up for the
-night; and at her skirts tagged Master Antonio Wolfe Tone Palassi, aged
-seven, only son and sole heir of the same, a round-bellied, red-cheeked
-little Italian-Irish-American. The judge put his hand on the latch and
-jiggled it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I tell you Tony's not there,” repeated Mr. Crump impatiently.
-</p>
-<p>
-If the judge heard him he paid no heed. He went through that door, leaving
-his command outside, as one might go who knew exactly what he was about.
-Little Tony Wolfe Tone recognised an old friend and came, gurgling a
-welcome, to greet him. Most of the children in town knew Judge Priest
-intimately, but little Tony Wolfe Tone was a particular favourite of his;
-and by the same token he was a particular favourite of Tony's.
-</p>
-<p>
-Whatever Judge Priest said to Mrs. Palassi didn't take long for the saying
-of it; yet it must have been an argument powerfully persuading and
-powerfully potent. It is possible—mind you, I don't make the
-positive assertion, but it is possible—he reminded her that the
-blood of a race of fighting kings ran in her veins; for in less than no
-time at all, when Judge Priest reissued from the fruit shop, there rode
-pack-fashion on his back a little figure so well bundled up against the
-cold that only a pair of big brown Italian eyes and a small, tiptilted
-Irish nose showed themselves, to prove that Judge Priest's burden was not
-a woolly Teddy-bear, but a veritable small boy. No; I'm wrong there. One
-other thing proved it—a woman standing in the doorway, wringing her
-apron in her hands, her face ablaze with mother love and mother pride and
-mother fear, watching the hurrying procession as it moved down the wintry
-street straight into the red glare on ahead.
-</p>
-<p>
-The flimsy framework of resiny pine burned fast, considering that much
-snow had lain on the roof and much snow had melted and run down the sides
-all day, to freeze again with the coming of nighttime. One end of the
-barracks had fallen into a muddle of black-charred ruination. The fire ate
-its way along steadily, purring and crackling and spitting as its red
-teeth bit into the wetted boards. Above, the whole sky was aglare with its
-wavering red reflections. The outlines of the bowl-shaped flat stood forth
-distinctly revealed in the glow of that great wooden brazier, and the snow
-that covered the earth was channelled across with red streaks, like spilt
-blood.
-</p>
-<p>
-Here, against the nearermost bank, the foreigners were clumped in a tight,
-compact black huddle, all scared, but not so badly scared that they would
-not fight. Yonder, across the snow, through the gap where a side street
-debouched at a gentle slope into the hollow, the mob advanced—men
-and half-grown boys—to the number of perhaps four hundred, coming to
-get the man who had stabbed Beaver Yancy and string him up on the spot—and
-maybe to get a few of his friends and string them up as an added warning
-to all Dagos. They came on and came on until a space of not more than
-seventy-five yards separated the mob and the mob's prospective victims.
-From the advancing mass a growling of many voices rose. Rampant, unloosed
-mischief was in the sound.
-</p>
-<p>
-Somebody who was drunk yelled out shrill profanity and then laughed a
-maudlin laugh. The group against the bank kept silent. Theirs was the
-silence of a grim and desperate resolution. Their only shelter had been
-fired over their heads; they were beleaguered and ringed about with
-enemies; they had nowhere to run for safety, even had they been minded to
-run. So they would fight. They made ready with their weapons of defence—such
-weapons as they had.
-</p>
-<p>
-A man who appeared to hold some manner of leadership over the rest
-advanced a step from the front row of them. In his hand he held an
-old-fashioned cap-and-ball pistol at full cock. He raised his right arm
-and sighted along the levelled barrel at a spot midway between him and the
-oncoming crowd. Plainly he meant to fire when the first of his foes
-crossed an imaginary line. He squinted up his-eye, taking a careful aim;
-and he let his trigger finger slip gently inside the trigger guard—but
-he never fired.
-</p>
-<p>
-On top of the hill, almost above his head, a bugle blared out. A fife and
-a drum cut in, playing something jiggy and brisk; and over the crest and
-down into the flat, two by two, marched a little column of old men,
-following after a small silken flag which flicked and whispered in the
-wind, and led by a short, round-bodied commander, who held by the hand a
-little briskly trotting figure of a child. Tony Wolfe Tone had grown too
-heavy for the judge to carry him all the way.
-</p>
-<p>
-Out across the narrow space between the closing-in mob and the closed-in
-foreigners the marchers passed, their feet sinking ankle-deep into the
-crusted snow. Their leader gave a command; the music broke off and they
-spread out in single file, taking station, five feet apart from one
-another, so that between the two hostile groups a living hedge was
-interposed. And so they stood, with their hands down at their sides, some
-facing to the west, where the Italians were herded together, some facing
-toward the east, where the would-be lynchers, stricken with a great
-amazement, had come to a dead stand.
-</p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest, still holding little Tony Wolfe Tone's small mittened hand
-fast in his, spoke up, addressing the mob. His familiar figure was
-outlined against the burning barracks beyond him and behind him. His
-familiar whiny voice he lifted to so high a pitch that every man and boy
-there heard him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Feller citizens,” he stated, “this is part of Forrest's Cavalry you see
-here. We done soldierin' oncet and we've turned soldiers ag'in; but we
-ain't armed—none of us. We've only got our bare hands. Ef you come
-on we can't stop you with guns; but we ain't agoin' to budge, and ef you
-start shootin' you'll shorely git some of us. So ez a personal favour to
-me and these other gentlemen, I'd like to ast you jest to stand still
-where you are and not to shoot till after you see what we're fixrin' to
-try to do. That's agreeable to you-all, ain't it? You've got the whole
-night ahead of you—there's no hurry, is there, boys?”
- </p>
-<p>
-He did not wait for any answer from anyone. By name he knew a good half of
-them; by sight he knew the other half. And they all knew him; and they
-knew Tony Palassi's boy; and they knew Father Minor, who stood at his
-right hand; and they knew the lame blacksmith and the little bench-legged
-Jewish merchant, and the rich banker and the poor carpenter, and the
-leading wholesaler, and all the other old men who stretched away from the
-judge in an uneven line, like fence posts for a fence that had not been
-built. They would not shoot yet; and, as though fully convinced in his own
-mind they would bide where they were until he was done, and relying
-completely on them to keep their unspoken promise, Judge Priest
-half-turned his back on the members of the mob and bent over little Tony.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Little feller,” he said, “you ain't skeered, are you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Tony looked up at his friend and shook his head stoutly. Tony was not
-scared. It was as good as play to Tony—all this was.
-</p>
-<p>
-“That's my sandy little pardner,” said Judge Priest; and he put his hands
-under Tony's arms and heaved the child back up on his shoulders, and swung
-himself about so that he and Tony faced the huddle of silent figures in
-the shadow of the bank.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You see all them men yonder, don't you, boy?” he prompted. “Well, now you
-speak up ez loud ez you can, and you tell 'em whut I've been tellin' you
-to say all the way down the street ever since we left your mammy. You tell
-'em I'm the big judge of the big court. Tell 'em there's one man among 'em
-who must come on and go with me. He'll know and they'll know which man I
-mean. Tell 'em that man ain't goin' to be hurt ef he comes now. Tell 'em
-that they ain't none of 'em goin' to be hurt ef they all do what I say.
-Tell 'em Father Minor is here to show 'em to a safe, warm place where they
-kin spend the night. Kin you remember all that, sonny-boy? Then tell 'em
-in Eyetalian—quick and loud.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And Tony Wolfe Tone told them. Unmindful of the hundreds of eyes that were
-upon him, even forgetting for a minute to watch the fire—Tony opened
-wide his small mouth and in the tongue of his father's people, richened
-perhaps by the sweet brogue of his mother's land, and spiced here and
-there with a word or two of savoury good American slang, he gave the
-message a piping utterance.
-</p>
-<p>
-They hearkened and they understood. This baby, this <i>bambino</i>,
-speaking to them in a polyglot tongue they, nevertheless, could make out—surely
-he did not lie to them! And the priest of their own faith, standing in the
-snow close by the child, would not betray them. They knew better than
-that. Perhaps to them the flag, the drum, the fife, the bugle, the faint
-semblance of military formation maintained by these volunteer rescuers who
-had appeared so opportunely, promising succour and security and a
-habitation for the night—perhaps all this symbolised to them
-organised authority and organised protection, just as Judge Priest, in a
-flash of inspiration back in Kamleiter's Hall, had guessed that it might.
-</p>
-<p>
-Their leader, the man who held the pistol, advanced a pace or two and
-called out something; and when Tony Wolfe, from his perch on the old
-judge's shoulders, had answered back, the man, as though satisfied, turned
-and might be seen busily confabbing with certain of his mates who
-clustered about him, gesticulating.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Whut did he say, boy?” asked Judge Priest, craning his neck to look up.
-</p>
-<p>
-“He say, Mister Judge, they wants to talk it over,” replied Tony, craning
-his neck to look down.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And whut did you say to him then?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I say to him: 'Go to it, kiddo!'”
- </p>
-<p>
-In the sheltering crotch of little Tony's two plump bestraddling legs,
-which encircled his neck, the old judge chuckled to himself. A wave of
-laughter ran through the ranks of the halted mob—Tony's voice had
-carried so far as that, and Tony's mode of speech apparently had met with
-favour. Mob psychology, according to some students, is hard to fathom;
-according to others, easy.
-</p>
-<p>
-From the midst of the knot of Sicilians a man stepped forth—not the
-tall man with the gun, but a little stumpy man who moved with a limp.
-Alone, he walked through the crispened snow until he came up to where the
-veterans stood, waiting and watching. The mob, all intently quiet once
-more, waited and watched too.
-</p>
-<p>
-With a touch of the dramatic instinct that belongs to his race, he flung
-down a dirk knife at Judge Priest's feet and held out both his hands in
-token of surrender. To the men who came there to take his life he gave no
-heed—not so much as a sidewise glance over his shoulder did he give
-them. He looked into the judge's face and into the face of little Tony,
-and into the earnest face of the old priest alongside these two.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Boys”—the judge lifted Tony down and, with a gesture, was invoking
-the attention of his townsmen—“boys, here's the man who did the
-knifin' this mornin', givin' himself up to my pertection—and yours.
-He's goin' along with me now to the county jail, to be locked up ez a
-prisoner. I've passed my word and the word of this whole town that he
-shan't be teched nor molested whilst he's on his way there, nor after he
-gits there. I know there ain't a single one of you but stands ready to
-help me keep that promise. I'm right, ain't I, boys?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, hell, judge—you win!” sang out a member of the mob, afterward
-identified as one of Beaver Yancy's close friends, in a humorously
-creditable imitation of the judge's own earnest whine. And at that
-everybody laughed again and somebody started a cheer.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I thought so,” replied the judge. “And now, boys, I've got an idea. I
-reckin, after trampin' all the way down here in the snow, none of us want
-to tramp back home ag'in without doin' somethin'—we don't feel like
-ez ef we want to waste the whole evenin', do we? See that shack burnin'
-down? Well, it's railroad property; and we don't want the railroad to
-suffer. Let's put her out—let's put her out with snowballs!”
- Illustrating his suggestion, he stooped, scooped up a double handful of
-snow, squeezed it into a pellet and awkwardly tossed it in the general
-direction of the blazing barracks. It flew wide of the mark and fell short
-of it; but his intention was good, that being conceded. Whooping joyously,
-four hundred men and half-grown boys, or thereabouts such a number,
-pouched their weapons and dug into the drifted whiteness.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Hold on a minute—we'll do it to soldier music!” shouted the judge,
-and he gave a signal. The drum beat then; and old Mr. Harrison Treese
-buried the fife in his white whiskers and ripped loose on the air the
-first bars of Yankee Doodle. The judge molded another snowball for
-himself.
-</p>
-<p>
-“All set? Then, ready!—aim!—fire!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Approximately two hundred snowballs battered and splashed the flaming red
-target. A great sizzling sound rose.
-</p>
-<p>
-Just after this first volley the only gun-powder shot of the evening was
-fired. It came out afterward that as a man named Ike Bowers stooped over
-to gather up some snow his pistol, which he had forgotten to uncock,
-slipped out of his pocket and fell on a broken bit of planking. There was
-a darting needle of fire and a smart crack. The Sicilians wavered for a
-minute, swaying back and forth, then steadied themselves as Father Minor
-stepped in among them with his arms uplifted; but Sergeant Jimmy Bagby put
-his hand to his head in a puzzled sort of way, spun round, and laid
-himself down full length in the snow.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was nearly midnight. The half-burned hull of the barracks in the
-deserted bottom below the Old Fort still smoked a little, but it no longer
-blazed. Its late occupants—all save one—slept in the P. A.
-& O. V. roundhouse, half a mile away, under police and clerical
-protection; this one was in a cell in the county jail, safe and sound, and
-it is probable that he slept also. That linguistic prodigy, Master Tony
-Wolfe Tone Palassi, being excessively awearied, snored in soft, little-boy
-snores at his mother's side; and over him she cried tears of pride and
-visited soft kisses on his flushed, upturned face. To the family of the
-Palassis much honour had accrued—not forgetting the Callahans. At
-eleven o'clock the local correspondent of the <i>Courier-Journal</i> and
-other city papers had called up to know where he might get copies of her
-son's latest photograph for widespread publication abroad.
-</p>
-<p>
-The rest of the town, generally speaking, was at this late hour of
-midnight, also abed; but in the windows of Doctor Lake's office, on the
-second floor of the Planters' Bank building, lights burned, and on the
-leather couch in Doctor Lake's inner room a pudgy figure, which breathed
-heavily, was stretched at full length, its hands passively flat on its
-breast, its head done up in many windings of cotton batting and surgical
-bandages. Above this figure stood old Doctor Lake, holding in the open
-palm of his left hand a small, black, flattened object. The door leading
-to the outer office opened a foot and the woe-begone face and dripping
-eyes of Judge Priest appeared through the slit.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Get out!” snapped Doctor Lake without turning his head.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Lew, it's me!” said Judge Priest in the whisper that any civilised being
-other than a physician or a trained nurse instinctively assumes in the
-presence of a certain dread visitation. “I jest natchelly couldn't wait no
-longer—not another minute! I wouldn't 'a' traded one hair off of
-Jimmy Bagby's old grey head fur all the Beaver Yancys that ever was
-whelped. Lew, is there a chance?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Billy Priest,” said Doctor Lake severely, “the main trouble with you is
-that you're so liable to go off half-cocked. Beaver Yancy's not going to
-die—you couldn't kill him with an ax. I don't know how that story
-got round to-night. And Jim Bagby's all right too, except he's going to
-have one whale of a headache tomorrow. The bullet glanced round his skull
-and stopped under the scalp. Here 'tis—I just got it out.... Oh,
-Lord! Now look what you've done, bursting in here and blubbering all
-around the place!”
- </p>
-<p>
-The swathed form on the couch sat up and cocked an eye out from beneath a
-low-drawn fold of cheesecloth.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Is that you, Judge?” demanded Sergeant Bagby in his usual voice and in
-almost his usual manner.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes, Jimmy; it's me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest projected himself across the room toward his friend. He
-didn't run; he didn't jump; he didn't waddle—he projected himself.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes, Jimmy, it's me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Are any of the other boys out there in the other room?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, Jimmy; they're all out there, waitin'.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, quit snifflin' and call 'em right in!” said Sergeant Bagby crisply.
-“I've been tryin' fur years to git somebody to set still long enough fur
-me to tell 'em that there story about Gin'ral John C. Breckenridge and
-Gin'ral Simon Bolivar Buckner; and it seems like somethin' always comes up
-to interrupt me. This looks like my chance to finish it, fur oncet. Call
-them boys all in!”
- </p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-VIII. DOUBLE-BARRELLED JUSTICE
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> LONG and limber man leaned against a doorjamb of the Blue Jug Saloon and
-Short Order Restaurant, inhaling the mild dear air of the autumnal day
-and, with the air of a man who amply is satisfied by the aspect of things,
-contemplating creation at large as it revealed itself along Franklin
-Street. In such posture he suggested more than anything else a pair of
-callipers endowed with reason. For this, our disesteemed fellow citizen of
-the good old days which are gone, was probably the shortest-waisted man in
-the known world. In my time I have seen other men who might be deemed to
-be excessively short waisted, but never one to equal in this unique regard
-Old King Highpockets. A short span less of torso, and a dime museum would
-have claimed him, sure.
-</p>
-<p>
-You would think me a gross exaggerator did I attempt to tell you how high
-up his legs forked; suffice it to say that, as to his suspenders, they
-crossed the spine just below his back collar button. Wherefore, although
-born a Magee and baptised an Elmer, it was inevitable in this community
-that from the days of his youth onward he should have been called what
-they did call him. To his six feet five and a half inches of lank
-structural design he owed the more descriptive part of his customary
-title. The rest of it—the regal-sounding part of it—had been
-bestowed upon him in his ripened maturity after he achieved for himself
-local dominance in an unhallowed but a lucrative calling.
-</p>
-<p>
-Sitting down the above-named seemed a person of no more than ordinary
-height, this being by reason of the architectural peculiarities just
-referred to. But standing up, as at the present moment, he reared head and
-gander neck above the run of humanity. From this personal eminence he now
-looked about him and below him as he took the gun. There was not a cloud
-in the general sky; none in his private and individual sky either. He had
-done well the night before and likewise the night before that; he expected
-to do as well or better the coming night. Upstairs over the Blue Jug King
-Highpockets took in gambling—both plain and fancy gambling.
-</p>
-<p>
-There passed upon the opposite side of the street one Beck Giltner. With
-him the tall man in the doorway exchanged a distant and formal greeting
-expressed in short nods. Between these two no great amount of friendliness
-was lost. Professionally speaking they were opponents. Beck Giltner was by
-way of being in the card and dicing line himself, but he was known as a
-square gambler, meaning by that, to most of mankind he presented a plane
-surface of ostensible honesty and fair dealing, whereas within an
-initiated circle rumour had it that his rival of the Blue Jug was so
-crooked he threw a shadow like a brace and bit. Beck Giltner made it a
-rule of business to strip only those who could afford to lose their
-pecuniary peltries. Minors, drunkards, half-wits and chronic losers were
-barred from his tables. But all was fish—I use the word advisedly—all
-was fish that came to the net of Highpockets.
-</p>
-<p>
-Beck Giltner passed upon his business. So did other and more reputable
-members of society. A short straggling procession of gentlemen went by,
-all headed westward, and each followed at a suitable interval by his negro
-“boy,” who might be anywhere between seventeen and seventy years of age.
-An hour or two later these travellers would return, bound for their
-offices downtown. Going back they would mainly travel in pairs, and their
-trailing black servitors would be burdened, front and back, with “samples”—sheafs
-of tobacco bound together and sealed with blobs of red sealing wax and
-tagged. For this was in the time before the Trust and the Night Riders had
-between them disrupted the trade down in the historic Black Patch, and the
-mode of marketing the weed by loose leaf was a thing as yet undreamed of.
-They would be prizing on the breaks in Key & Buckner's long warehouse
-pretty soon. The official auctioneer had already reported himself, and to
-the ear for blocks round came distantly a sharp rifle-fire clatter as the
-warehouse hands knocked the hoops off the big hogsheads and the freed
-staves rattled down in windrows upon the uneven floor.
-</p>
-<p>
-A locomotive whistled at the crossing two squares up the street, and the
-King smiled a little smile and rasped a lean and avaricious chin with a
-fabulously bony hand. He opined that locomotive would be drawing the
-monthly pay car which was due. The coming of the pay car meant many
-sportive railroad men—shopmen, yardmen, trainmen—abroad that
-evening with the good new money burning holes in the linings of their
-pockets.
-</p>
-<p>
-Close by him, just behind him, a voice spoke his name—his proper
-name which he seldom heard—and the sound of it rubbed the smile off
-his face and turned it on the instant into a grim, long war-mask of a
-face.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Mister Magee—Elmer—just a minute, please!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Without shifting his body he turned his head and over the peak of one
-shoulder he regarded her dourly. She was a small woman and she was verging
-on middle age, and she was an exceedingly shabby little woman. Whatever of
-comeliness she might ever have had was now and forever gone from her. Hard
-years and the strain of them had ground the colour in and rubbed the
-plumpness out of her face, leaving in payment therefor deep lines and a
-loose skin-sac under the chin and hollows in the cheeks. The shapeless,
-sleazy black garments that she wore effectually concealed any remnant of
-grace that might yet abide in her body. Only her eyes testified she had
-ever been anything except a forlorn and drooping slattern. They were big
-bright black eyes.
-</p>
-<p>
-This briefly was the aspect of the woman who stood alongside him, speaking
-his name. She had come up so quietly that he never heard her. But then her
-shoes were old and worn and had lasted long past the age when shoes will
-squeak.
-</p>
-<p>
-He made no move to raise his hat. Slantwise across the high ridge of his
-twisted shoulder he looked at her long and contemptuously.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well,” he said at length, “back ag'in, huh? Well, whut is it now, huh?”
- </p>
-<p>
-She put up a little work-gnarled hand to a tight skew of brown hair
-streaked thickly with grey. In the gesture was something essentially
-feminine—something pathetic too.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I reckon you know already what it is, Elmer,” she said. “It's about my
-boy—it's about Eddie.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I told you before and I tell you ag'in I ain't your boy's guardeen,” he
-answered her.
-</p>
-<p>
-“How comes you keep on pesterin' me—I ain't got that boy of yourn?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, you have got him,” she said, her voice shaking and threatening to
-break. “You've got him body and soul. And I want him—me, his mother.
-I want you to give him back to me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-His gaze lifted until he considered empty space a foot above her head.
-Slowly he reached an angular arm back under his right shoulder blade and
-fished about there until he had extracted from a hip pocket a long, black
-rectangle of navy chewing tobacco that was like a shingle newly dipped in
-creosote. It was a virgin plug—he bought a fresh one every morning
-and by night would make a ragged remnant of it. With the deliberation of a
-man who has plenty of time to spare, he set his stained front teeth in a
-corner of it and gnawed off a big scallop of the rank stuff. His tongue
-herded it back into his jaw, where it made a lump. He put the plug away.
-She stood silently through this, kneading her hands together, a most
-humble suppliant awaiting this monarch's pleasure.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You told me all that there foolishness the other time,” he said. “Ain't
-you got no new song to sing this time? Ef you have I'll listen, mebbe. Ef
-you ain't I'll tell you good-by.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Elmer,” she said, “what kind of a man are you? Haven't you got any
-compassions at all? Why, Elmer, your pa and my pa were soldiers together
-in the same regiment. You and me were raised together right here in this
-town. We went to the same schoolhouse together as children—don't you
-remember? You weren't a mean boy then. Why, I used to think you was right
-good-hearted. For the sake of those old days won't you do something about
-Eddie? It's wrong and it's sinful—what you're doing to him and the
-rest of the young boys in this town.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Ef you think that why come to me?” he demanded. “Why not go to the police
-with your troubles?” He split his lips back, and a double row of
-discoloured snags that projected from the gums like little chisels showed
-between them.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And have 'em laugh in my face, same as you're doing now? Have 'em tell me
-to go and get the evidence? Oh, I know you're safe enough there. I reckon
-you know who your friends are. You shut up when the Grand Jury meets; and
-once in a while when things get hot for you, like they did when that Law
-and Order League was so busy, you close up your place; and once in a while
-you go up to court and pay a fine and then you keep right on. But it's not
-you that's paying the fine—I know that mighty good and well. The
-money to pay it comes out of the pockets of poor women in this town—wives
-and mothers and sisters.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, there's others besides me that are suffering this minute. There's
-that poor, little, broken-hearted Mrs. Shetler, out there on Wheelis
-Street—the one whose husband had to run away because he fell short
-in his accounts with the brickyard. And there's that poor, old Mrs.
-Postelwaite, that's about to lose the home that she's worked her fingers
-to the bone, mighty near, to help pay for, and she'll be left without a
-roof over her head in her old age because her husband's went and lost
-every cent he can get his hands on playing cards in your place, and so now
-they can't meet their mortgage payments. And there's plenty of others if
-the truth was only known. And oh, there's me and my boy—the only boy
-I've got. Elmer Magee, how you can sleep nights I don't see!” “I don't,”
- he said. “I work nights.” His wit appealed to him, for he grinned again.
-“Say, listen here!” His mood had changed and he spat the next words out.
-“Ef you think I ain't good company for that son of yourn, why don't you
-make him stay away from me? I ain't hankerin' none fur his society.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I've tried to, Elmer—God knows I've tried to, time and time again.
-That's why I've come back to you once more to ask you if you won't help
-me. I've gone down on my knees alone and prayed for help and I've prayed
-with Eddie, too, and I've pleaded with him. He don't run round town
-carousing like some boys his age do. He don't drink and he's not wild,
-except it just seems like he can't leave gambling alone. Oh, he's promised
-me and promised me he'd quit, but he's weak—and he's only a boy.
-I've kept track of his losings as well as I could, and I know that first
-and last he's lost nearly two hundred dollars playing cards with you and
-your crowd. That may not be much to you, Elmer—I reckon you're rich—but
-it's a lot to a lone woman like me. It means bread and meat and house rent
-and clothes to go on my back—that's what it means to me. My feet are
-mighty near out of these shoes I've got on, and right this minute there's
-not a cent in the house. I don't say you cheated him, but the money's gone
-and you got it. And it's ruining my boy. He's only a boy—he won't be
-twenty-one till the twelfth day of next April. If only you wouldn't let
-him come inside your place he'd behave himself—I know he would.
-</p>
-<p>
-“So you see, Elmer, you're the only one that can make him go straight—that's
-why I've come back to you this second time. I reckon he ain't so much to
-blame. You know—yes, you've got reason to know better than anybody
-else—that his father before him couldn't leave playing cards alone.
-I hoped I could raise Eddie different. As a little thing I used to tell
-him playing cards were the devil's own playthings. But it seems like he
-can't just help it. I reckon it's in his blood.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Whut you need then is a blood purifier,” mocked the gamester. He pointed
-a long forefinger toward the drug store across the street. “You'd better
-go on over yonder to Hinkle's and git him some. I see they're advertisn' a
-new brand in their window—a dollar a bottle and a cure guaranteed or
-else you gits your money back. Better invest!”
- </p>
-<p>
-He showed her his back as he turned to enter the Blue Jug. Pausing halfway
-through the swinging doors he spoke again, and since he still looked over
-her head perhaps he did not see the look that had come into her eyes or
-mark how her hands were clenching and unclenching. Or if he did see these
-things perhaps he did not care.
-</p>
-<p>
-“That's all I've got to say to you,” he added, “exceptin' this—I
-want this here to be the last time you come pesterin' me on the street.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It will be,” she said slowly, and her voice was steady although her
-meagre frame shook. “It's the last time I'm coming to you on the street,
-Elmer, for what's mine by rights.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then good-day to you.” He disappeared. She turned and went away, walking
-fast. Her name was Norfleet and she was a widow and alone in the world.
-Except for her son, who worked at Kattersmith Brothers' brickyards as a
-helper for twelve dollars and a half a week, she had no kith or kin. She
-lived mainly by her needle, being a seamstress of sorts.
-</p>
-<p>
-King Highpockets' establishment was the nearest approach to a gilded
-gambling hell—to quote a phrase current—that we had. But
-certainly it was not gilded, although possibly by some it might have been
-likened to a hell. Under the friendly cover of darkness you ascended a
-steep flight of creaky wooden steps and when you had reached the first
-landing you knocked at a locked wooden door. The lock slid back and the
-door opened a cautious inch or two and a little grinning negro, whose name
-was Babe Givens, peeped out at you through the opening. If you were the
-right person, or if you looked as though you might be the right person,
-Babe Givens opened the door wider and made way for you to enter.
-</p>
-<p>
-Entering then, you found yourself in a big room furnished most simply with
-two tables and some chairs and several spittoons upon the floor, and a
-portable rack for poker checks and a dumbwaiter in a corner—and that
-was all. There was no safe, the proprietor deeming it the part of safety
-to carry his cash capital on his person. There was no white-uniformed
-attendant to bring you wine, should you thirst, and turkey sandwiches, if
-you hungered while at play. I have read that such as these are provided in
-all properly conducted gambling hells in the great city, but King
-Highpockets ran a sure-thing shop, not a restaurant. Drinks, when desired,
-were paid for in advance, and came from the bar below on the shelf of the
-creaking dumbwaiter, after Babe Givens had called the order down a tin
-speaking tube. There were no rugs upon the floor, no pictures against the
-walls. Except for the decks of cards, opened fresh at each sitting, there
-was nothing new or bright about the place. The King might move his entire
-outfit in one two-horse wagon and put no great strain upon the team. He
-might lose it altogether and be out of pocket not more than seventy-five
-dollars. In him the utilitarian triumphed above the purely artistic;
-himself, he was not pretty to look upon.
-</p>
-<p>
-Of the two tables, one ordinarily was for poker and the other was for
-craps. The King banked both games, and sometimes took a hand in the poker
-game if conditions seemed propitious. Whether he played though or whether
-he didn't, he stood by always to lift a white chip out of each jackpot for
-a greedy and omnivorous kitty, whose mouth showed as a brassbound slot in
-the middle of the circular cover of dirty green baize. Trust him to
-minister to his kitty every pop. She was his pet and he loved her, and he
-never forgot her and her needs.
-</p>
-<p>
-This night, though, the poker table lacked for tenants. The pay car had
-come and had dispensed of its delectable contents and had gone on south,
-and on this particular night most of the King's guests were railroad men.
-Railroad men being proverbially fond of quick action and plenty of it, the
-crap table had been drawn out into the middle of the room and here all
-activities centred. Here, too, the King presided, making change as
-occasion demanded cards, opened fresh at each turn.
-</p>
-<p>
-While he did this his assistant, an alert individual called Grimes—or
-Jay Bird Grimes, for short—kept track of the swift-travelling dice
-and of the betting, which like the dice moved from left to right, round
-and round and round again.
-</p>
-<p>
-Jay Bird had need to keep both his eyes wide open, for present players and
-prospective players were ringed four deep about the table. The smoke of
-their cigars and their cigarettes went upward to add stratified richness
-to the thick blue clouds that crawled in layers against the ceiling, and
-the sweat of their brows ran down their faces to drip in drops upon the
-table as one after another they claimed the dotted cubes and shook,
-rattled and rolled 'em, and snapped their finger in importunity, calling
-upon Big Dick or Phoebe Dice to come and to come right away. And then this
-one would fail to make his point and would lose his turn, and the
-overworked ivories would go into the snatching eager hand of that one who
-stood next him, and all the rest, waiting for their chance, would breathe
-hard, grunting in fancied imitation of negroes, and shouting out in a
-semi-hysterical fashion as the player passed or didn't pass.
-</p>
-<p>
-A young freight conductor laid down a ten-dollar bill and the King covered
-it with another. The freight conductor ran that ten up to one hundred and
-eighty dollars, ten or twenty at a dip, then shot the whole amount and
-lost it; then lost ninety more on top of that, and with a white face and a
-quite empty pay envelope, still held fast in a shaking left hand, fell
-back out of the hunched-in, scrouging circle. But he didn't go away; he
-stayed to watch the others, envious of those who temporarily beat the
-game, dismally sympathetic, with an unspoken fellow feeling, for those
-who, like him, went broke. Josh Herron, the roundhouse foreman, dropped
-half his month's wages before he decided that, since luck plainly was not
-with him, he had had about enough. A clerk from the timekeeper's office
-shoved in, taking his place.
-</p>
-<p>
-When he wasn't answering knocks at the door Babe Givens circulated about
-the outskirts of the tightened group like a small, black rabbit dog about
-a brush pile harbouring hares, his eyes all china and his mouth all ivory.
-The sound of those small squared bones dashing together in their worn
-leather cup was music to his Afric ears. The white man in the first place
-stole this game from Babe's race, you know.
-</p>
-<p>
-Babe had to answer knocks a good many times. Newcomers kept on climbing
-the stair and knuckling the door.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Game's mighty full, genelmens—but they's always room fur one mo'.
-Step right in and wait yo' turn,” Babe would say, ushering in the latest
-arrival. Babe was almost as happy as if he had been shooting himself.
-</p>
-<p>
-As I say, they kept coming. At length, a few minutes before midnight, when
-the pile of silver under the King's hands had grown from a molehill to a
-mountain and the wadded paper money made a small shock of yellow-and-green
-fodder upon the green pasture of the table-top, came still another, and
-this one most strangely burdened. Very mousily indeed this eleventh-hour
-visitor ascended the steps, and first trying the doorknob, knocked with a
-fumbling knock against the pine panels.
-</p>
-<p>
-Babe drew back the bolt and peered out into the darkness at the solitary
-figure dimly seen. “Game's mighty full, genelmen,” he began the formula of
-greeting, “but you kin——”
- </p>
-<p>
-Babe began it but he never finished it. Some-. thing long and black,
-something slim and fearsome—yes, most fearsome—slid through
-the opening, and grazed his nose so that the little darky, stricken limp,
-fell back.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Please, suh, boss,” he begged, “fur Gawd's sake don't shoot—don't
-shoot!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Babe started his prayer in a babble but he ended it with a shriek—a
-shriek so imploringly loud that all there, however intent they might be,
-were bound to hear and take notice. Over the heads of his patrons
-Highpockets looked, and he stiffened where he stood. They all looked; they
-all stiffened.
-</p>
-<p>
-There was just cause. Inside the door opening was a masked figure
-levelling down a double-barrelled shotgun upon them. Lacking the mask and
-the shotgun, and lacking, too, a certain rigid and purposeful pose which
-was most clearly defined in all its lines, the figure would have lacked
-all menace, indeed would have seemed to the casual eye a most impotent and
-grotesque figure. For it was but little better than five feet in stature
-and not overly broad. It wore garments too loose for it by many inches.
-The sleeve ends covered the small hands to the finger ends, and the
-trousers wrinkled, accordion fashion, to the tips of the absurdly small
-toes. An old slouch hat threatened to slip all the way down over the
-wearer's face. The mask was a flimsy thing of black cambric, but the
-eyeholes, strange to say, were neatly worked with buttonhole stitching.
-From beneath the hatbrim at the back a hank of longish hair escaped. On
-the floor, a yard or so before the apparition where it had been dropped,
-rested an ancient black handbag unlatched and agape.
-</p>
-<p>
-I am not meaning to claim that at the first instant of looking the several
-astonished eyes of the gathering in King Highpockets' place comprehended
-all these details; it was the general effect that they got; and it was
-that shotgun which mainly made the difference in their point of view. What
-they did note most clearly—every man of them—was that the two
-hammers of the gun stood erect, ready to drop, and that a slim trigger
-finger played nervously inside the trigger guard, and that the twin
-muzzles, shifting and wavering like a pair, of round hard eyes gazing
-every way at once, seemed to fix a threatening stare upon all of them and
-upon each of them. If the heavy gun shook a bit in the grip of its holder
-that but added to the common peril. Anyone there would have taken his
-dying oath that the thing aimed for his shrinking vitals and none other's.
-“Hands up—up high! And keep 'em up!” The command, given in a
-high-pitched key, was practically unnecessary. Automatically, as it were,
-all arms there had risen to full stretch, so that the clump of their
-motionless bodies was fronded at the top with open palms and tremulous
-outstretched fingers. But the arms of old King Highpockets rose above all
-the rest and his fingers shook the shakiest.
-</p>
-<p>
-“If anybody moves an inch I'll shoot.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That don't go for me—I ain't aimin' to move,” murmured Josh Herron.
-Josh was scared all right, but he chuckled as he said it. “Now—boy—
-you!”
- </p>
-<p>
-The gun barrels dipped to the right an instant, including the detached
-form of Babe Givens in their swing.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yas, suh, boss, yas!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You put all that money in this grip sack here at my feet.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“W-w-which money, boss?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“All the money that's there on that table yonder—every cent of it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The little darky feared the man who paid him his wages, but there were
-things in this world he feared more—masked faces and shotguns, for
-example. His knees smote together and his teeth became as castanets which
-played in his jaws, as with rolling eyes and a skin like wet ashes he
-moved shudderingly to obey. Between the table and the valise he made two
-round trips, carrying the first time silver, the second time paper, and
-then, his task accomplished, he collapsed against the wall because his
-legs would no longer hold him up. For there was water in his knee joints
-and his feet were very cold.
-</p>
-<p>
-Through this nobody spoke; only the eyes of the armed one watched
-vigilantly everywhere and the shotgun ranged the assemblage across its
-front and back again. Under his breath some one made moan, as the heaping
-double handful of green-and-yellow stuff was crumpled down into the
-open-mawed bag. It might have been Highpockets who moaned.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Now then,” bade the robber, when the paper had gone to join the silver,
-“anybody here who's lost his money to-night or any other night can come
-and get it back. But come one at a time—and come mighty slow and
-careful.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Curiously enough only two came—the young freight conductor and the
-youth who was a clerk in the time-keeper's office at the yards.
-</p>
-<p>
-Shamefacedly the freight conductor stooped, flinching away from the gun
-muzzles which pointed almost in his right ear, and picked out certain
-bills.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I lost an even hundred—more'n I can afford to lose,” he mumbled.
-“I'm takin' just my own hundred.” He retired rearward after the manner of
-a crab.
-</p>
-<p>
-The boy wore an apologetic air as he salvaged twenty-two dollars from the
-cache. After he had crawfished back to the table where the others were,
-none else offered to stir.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Anybody else?” inquired the collector of loot.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, I squandered a little coin here this evenin', but I'm satisfied,”
- spoke Josh Herron, now grinning openly. “I'm gittin' my money's worth.” He
-glanced sidewise toward the suffering proprietor.
-</p>
-<p>
-“All done?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Nobody answered.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Here, boy, come here then!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Babe Givens came—upon his knees.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Close that bag.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Babe fumbled the rusted claps shut.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Now, shove it up close to me along the floor.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Babe, he shoved it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Now get back yonder where you were.”
- </p>
-<p>
-I leave it to you whether Babe got back yonder.
-</p>
-<p>
-The figure swooped downward briskly, and two fingers of the hand which
-gripped the forearm of the gun caught in the looped handles of the black
-bag and brought it up dangling and heavy laden.
-</p>
-<p>
-And now the custodian of these delectable spoils was backing toward the
-door, but still with weapon poised and ready.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Stay right where you are for five minutes,” was the final warning from
-behind the cambric mask. “Five minutes, remember! Anybody who tries to
-come down those steps before that five minutes is up is going to get
-shot.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The door slammed. Through the closed door the crap-shooters, each in his
-place and all listening as intently as devout worshippers in a church,
-heard the swift footsteps dying away. Josh Herron brought down his arms
-and took two steps forward.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Wait, Josh, the time limit ain't up yit,” counselled a well-wisher.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, I ain't goin' nowheres jest yit—I'm very comfortable here,”
- said Josh. He stooped and seemed to pick up some small object from the
-bare planks.
-</p>
-<p>
-Five minutes later—or perhaps six—a procession moving
-cautiously, silently and in single file passed down the creaky stairs. It
-was noted—and commented upon—that the owner of the raided
-place, heaviest loser and chief mourner though he was, tagged away back at
-the tail of the line. Only Babe Givens was behind him, and Babe was well
-behind him too. At the foot of the stairs the frontmost man projected his
-head forth into the night, an inch at a time, ready to jerk it back again.
-But to his inquiring vision Franklin Street under its gas lamps yawned as
-empty as a new made grave.
-</p>
-<p>
-For some unuttered and indefinable reason practically all of the present
-company felt in a mood promptly to betake themselves home. On his homeward
-way Josh Herron travelled in the company of a sorely shaken grocery clerk,
-and between them they, going up the street, discussed the startling
-episode in which they had just figured.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Lookin' down that pair of barrels certainly made a true believer out of
-old Highpockets, didn't it?” said the grocer's clerk, when the event had
-been gone over verbally from its beginning to its end. “Did you happen to
-see, Josh, how slow he poked his old head out past them doorjambs even
-after Jasper Waller told him the coast was clear? Put me in mind of one of
-these here old snappin'-turtles comin' out of his shell after a skeer.
-Well, I had a little touch of the buck-ager myself,” he confessed.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It was sorter up to our long-laiged friend to be a little bit careful,”
- said Josh Herron. “Coupled up the way he is, one buckshot would be liable
-to go through his gizzard and his lights at the same time.”
- </p>
-<p>
-A little later the grocery clerk spoke, in reference to a certain quite
-natural curiosity which seemingly lay at the top of his thoughts, since he
-had voiced it at least three times within the short space of one city
-block:
-</p>
-<p>
-“I wonder who that there runty hold-up could 'a' been?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, I wonder?” repeated Josh Herron in a peculiar voice.
-</p>
-<p>
-“He certainly took a long chance, whoever he was—doin' the whole job
-single handed,” continued the grocery clerk. “Well, I ain't begrudgin' him
-the eight dollars of mine that he packed off with him, seein' as how he
-stripped old Highpockets as clean as a whistle. And he couldn't 'a' been
-nothin' but a half-grown boy neither, judgin' from his build.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Boy—hell! Say, Oscar, are you as blind as the rest of that crowd?”'
-asked Josh Herron, coming to a halt beneath a corner gas lamp. “Was you so
-skeered, too, you couldn't see a thing that was right there before your
-eyes as plain as day?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What you talkin' about?” demanded the other. “If it wasn't a boy, what
-was it—a dwarf?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oscar, kin you keep a secret?” asked Josh Herron, grinning happily. “Yes?
-Then look here.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He opened his right hand. Across the palm of it lay a bent wire hairpin.
-</p>
-<p>
-It is possible that Oscar, the grocer's clerk, did know how to keep a
-secret. As to that I would not presume to speak. Conceding that he did, it
-is equally certain that some persons did not possess the same gift of
-reticence. By noon of the following day, practically all who had ears to
-hear with had heard in one guise or another the story of those midnight
-proceedings upstairs over the Blue Jug. It was inevitable that the editor
-of the <i>Daily Evening News</i> should hear it, too, which he did—from
-a dozen different sources and by a dozen differing versions. For
-publication at least the distressed Highpockets had nothing to say. All
-things being considered, this was but natural, as you will concede.
-</p>
-<p>
-Naturally, also, none might be found in all the width and breadth of the
-municipality who would confess to having been an eye witness to the
-despoiling operations, because if you admitted so much it followed in the
-same breath you convicted yourself of being a frequenter of gaming
-establishments, and, moreover, of being one of a considerable number of
-large, strong men who had suffered themselves to be coerced by one
-diminutive bandit. So, lacking authoritative facts to go upon, and names
-of individuals with which to buttress his statements, Editor Tompkins,
-employing his best humorous vein, wrote and caused to be printed an
-account veiled and vague, but not so very heavily veiled at that and not
-so vague but that one who knew a thing or two might guess out the riddle
-of his tale.
-</p>
-<p>
-Coincidentally, certain other things happened which might or might not
-bear a relationship to the main event. Old Mrs. Postelwaite received by
-mail, in an unmarked envelope and from an unknown donor, three hundred and
-odd dollars—no great fortune in itself, but a sum amply sufficient
-to pay off the mortgage on her small birdbox of a dwelling, and so save
-the place which she called home from foreclosure at the instigation of the
-Building & Loan Company. Since little Mrs. Shetler, who lived out on
-Wheelis Street, had no present source of income other than what she
-derived by taking subscription orders for literary works which nobody
-cared to read and few, except through a spirit of compassion for Mrs.
-Shetler, cared to buy, it seemed fair to assume that from like mysterious
-agencies she acquired the exact amount of her husband's shortage, then
-owing to Kattersmith Brothers, his recent employers. This amount being
-duly turned over to that firm the fugitive was enabled to return from his
-hiding and, rehabilitated, to assume his former place in the community.
-For the first time in months little Mrs. Shetler wore a smile upon her
-face and carried her head erect when she went abroad. Seeing that smile
-you would have said yourself that it was worth every cent of the money.
-</p>
-<p>
-The Widow Norfleet, seamstress, squared up her indebtedness with divers
-neighbourhood tradesmen, and paid up her back house rent, and after doing
-all this still had enough ready cash left to provide winter time garments
-for herself and a new suit for her threadbare son Eddie. Finally, Mrs.
-Matilda Weeks, who constituted in herself an unofficial but highly
-efficient local charity organisation, discovered on a certain morning when
-she awoke that, during the night, some kindly soul had shoved under her
-front door a plain Manila wrapper, containing merely a line of writing on
-a sheet of cheap, blue-ruled notepaper: “For the poor people,” and nearly
-three hundred dollars in bills—merely that, and nothing more. It was
-exactly in keeping with Mrs. Weeks' own peculiar mode of philanthropy that
-she should accept this anonymous gift and make use of it without asking
-any questions whatsoever.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I think, by all accounts, it must be tainted money,” said Mrs. Weeks,
-“but I don't know any better way of making dirty money clean than by doing
-a little good with it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-So she kept the donation intact against the coming of the Christmas, and
-then she devoted it to filling many Christmas dinner baskets and many
-Christmas stockings for the families of shanty-boaters, whose floating
-domiciles clustered like a flock of very disreputable water fowl down by
-the willows, below town, these shiftless river gypsies being included
-among Mrs. Weeks' favourite wards.
-</p>
-<p>
-Meanwhile, for upward of a week after the hold-up no steps of whatsoever
-nature were taken by the members of the police force. For the matter of
-that, no steps which might be called authoritative or in strict accordance
-with the statutes made and provided were ever taken by them or any one of
-them. But one evening the acting head of the department went forth upon a
-private mission. Our regular chief, Gabe Henley, was laid up that fall,
-bedfast with inflammatory rheumatism, and the fact of his being for the
-time an invalid may possibly help to explain a good deal, seeing that Gabe
-had the name for both honesty and earnestness in the discharge of his
-duties, even if he did fall some degrees short of the mental stature of an
-intellectual giant.
-</p>
-<p>
-So it was the acting chief—he resigned shortly thereafter, as I
-recall—who took it upon himself to pay a sort of domiciliary visit
-to the three-room cottage where the Widow Norfleet lived with her son
-Eddie and took in sewing. He bore no warrant qualifying him for violent
-entry, search of the premises or seizure of the person, and perhaps that
-was why he made no effort to force his way within the little house; or
-maybe he desired only to put a few pointed questions to the head of the
-house. So while he stood at the locked front door, knocking until his
-knuckles stung him and his patience had become quite utterly exhausted, a
-woman let herself out at the back of the house and ran bareheaded through
-an alley which opened into Clay Street, Clay Street being the next street
-to the west. When she returned home again at the end of perhaps half an
-hour a peep through a hooded and shuttered front window revealed to her
-that the brass-buttoned caller had departed.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was the next morning, to follow with chronological exactitude the
-sequence of this narrative, that our efficient young commonwealth's
-attorney, Jerome G. Flournoy, let himself into the chambers of the circuit
-judge. Mr. Flournoy wore between his brows a little V of perplexity. But
-Judge Priest, whom he found sitting by a grate fire stoking away at his
-cob pipe, appeared to have not a single care concealed anywhere about his
-person. Certainly his forehead was free of those wrinkles which are
-presumed to denote troublesomeness of thought on the inside.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Judge,” began Mr. Flournoy, without any prolonged preliminaries, “I'm
-afraid I'm going to have to take up that Blue Jug affair. And I do hate
-mightily to do it, seeing what the consequences are liable to be. So I
-thought I'd talk it over with you first, if you don't mind.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Son,” whined Judge Priest, and to Mr. Flournoy it seemed that the phantom
-shadow of a wink rested for the twentieth part of a second on the old
-judge's left eyelid, “speakin' officially, it's barely possible that I
-don't know whut case you have reference to.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, unofficially then, you're bound to have heard the talk that's going
-round town,” said Mr. Flournoy. “Nobody's talked of anything else much
-this past week, so far as I've been able to notice. Just between you and
-me, Judge, I made up my mind, right from the first, that unless it was
-crowded on me I wasn't going to take cognisance of the thing at all.
-That's the principal reason why I haven't mentioned the subject in your
-presence before now. As a private citizen, it struck me that that
-short-waisted crook got exactly what was coming to him, especially as I
-never heard of bad money being put to better purposes. But aside from what
-he lost in cash—and I reckon he doesn't think any more of a silver
-dollar than you do of both your legs—it made him the laughing stock
-of twenty thousand people, and more particularly after the true inside
-facts began to circulate.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Now that you mention it, son,” remarked Judge Priest blandly, “it strikes
-me that I did ketch the distant sound of gigglin' here and there durin'
-the past few days.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That's just it—the giggling must've got under the scoundrel's hide
-finally. I gather that at the beginning Magee made up his mind to keep his
-mouth shut and just take his medicine. But I figure him for the kind that
-can't stand being laughed at very long—and his own gang have just
-naturally been laughing him to death all week. Anyhow, he came to my house
-today right after breakfast, and called on me as the commonwealth's
-attorney to put the facts before the Grand Jury when it convenes next
-Monday for the fall term. He's even willing to testify himself, he says.
-And he says he can prove what went with the money that he lost that night—or
-most of it—and what became of the rest of it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“That's not all, Judge, either. Right on top of that, when I got down to
-my office I found a letter from Mrs. Hetty Norfleet, saying she had
-nothing to conceal from the duly sworn officers of the law, and that she
-was perfectly willing to answer any charges that might be made against
-her, and that she would come to me and make a full statement any time I
-wanted her to come. Or substantially that,” amended Mr. Flournoy, with the
-lawyer's instinct.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Is that possible?” quoth the judge in tones of a mild surprise. With his
-thumb he tamped down the smoulder in his pipe. The job appeared to require
-care; certainly it required full half a minute of time. When next he spoke
-he had entirely departed from the main line of the topic in hand.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I reckin, son, you never knowed little Gil Nickolas, did you? No, 'taint
-in reason that you would. He died long before your time. Let's see—he
-must've died way back yonder about eighteen-sixty-nine, or maybe 'twas
-eighteen-seventy? He got hisself purty badly shot up at Chickamauga and
-never did entirely git over it. Well, sir, that there little Gil Nickolas
-wasn't much bigger than a cake of lye soap after a hard day'; washin', but
-let me tell you, he was a mighty gallant soldier of the late Southern
-Confederacy. I know he was because we both served together in old Company
-B—the first company that went out of this town after the fussin'
-started. Yes, suh, he shorely was a spunky little raskil. |I reckin he
-belonged to a spunky outfit—I never knowed one of his breed yit that
-didn't have more sand, when it come right down to cases, than you could
-load onto a hoss and waggin.” Again he paused to minister to the spark of
-life in his pipe bowl. “I recall one time, the first year of the war, me
-and Gil was out on a kind of a foragin' trip together and——”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I beg your pardon, Judge Priest,” broke in Mr. Flournoy a trifle stiffly,
-“but I was speaking of the trouble Mrs. Hetty Norfleet's gotten herself
-into.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I know you was,” assented Judge Priest, “and that's whut put me in mind
-of little Gil Nickolas. He was her paw. I ain't seen much of her here of
-recent years, but I reckin she's had a purty toler'ble hard time of it.
-Her husband wasn't much account ez I remember him in his lifetime.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“She has had a hard time of it—-mighty hard,” assented Mr. Flournoy,
-“and that's one of the things that makes my job all the harder for me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“How so?” inquired Judge Priest. “Because,” expounded Mr. Flournoy, “now,
-I suppose, I've got to put her under arrest and bring her to trial. In a
-way of speaking Magee has got the law on his side. Certainly he's got the
-right to call on me to act. On the surface of things the police are
-keeping out of it—I reckon we both know why—and so it's being
-put up to me. Magee points out, very truly, that it's a felony charge
-anyhow, and that even if his dear friend, the acting chief, should start
-the ball rolling, in the long run, sooner or later, the case would be
-bound to land in circuit court.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And whut then?” asked Judge Priest.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, nothing much,” said Mr. Flournoy bitterly, “nothing much, except that
-if that poor little woman confesses—and I judge by the tone of her
-letter she's ready to do just that—anyway, everybody in town knows
-by now that she was the one that held up that joint of Magee's at the
-point of a shotgun—why the jurors, under their oaths, are bound to
-bring in a verdict of guilty, no matter how they may feel about it
-personally. Magee has about reached the point where he'd risk a jail term
-for himself to see her sentenced to the penitentiary. Judge Priest, I'd
-almost rather resign my office than be the means of seeing that poor,
-little, plucky woman convicted for doing the thing she has done.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Wait a minute, son! Hold your hosses and wait a minute!” put in the
-judge. “Mebbe it won't be absolutely necessary fur you to up and resign so
-abrupt. Your valuable services are needed round this courthouse.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What's that you say, Judge?” asked the young prosecutor, straightening
-his body out of the despondent curve into which he had looped it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I says, wait a minute and don't be so proneful to jump at conclusions,”
- repeated and amplified the older man. “You go and jump at a conclusion
-that-away and you're liable to skeer the poor thing half to death. I've
-been lettin' you purceed ahead because I wanted to git your views on this
-little matter before I stuck my own paddle into the kittle. But now let's
-you and me see ef there ain't another side to this here proposition.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'm listening, your Honour,” said Flournoy, mystified but somehow
-cheered.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, then!” The judge raised his right arm ready to emphasise each point
-he made with a wide swing of the hand which held the pipe. “Under the laws
-of this state gamblin' in whatsoever form ain't permitted, recognised,
-countenanced nor suffered. That's so, ain't it, son? To be shore, the laws
-as they read at present sometimes seem insufficient somehow to prevent the
-same, and I hope to see them corrected in that reguard, but the intent is
-plain enough that, in the eye of the law, public gamblin' es sech does not
-go on anywhere within the confines of this commonwealth. You agree with me
-there, don't you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“May it please the court, I agree with you there,” said Flournoy happily,
-beginning, he thought, to see the light breaking through.
-</p>
-<p>
-“All right then—so fur so good. Now then, sech bein' the situation,
-we may safely assume, I reckin, that within the purview and the written
-meanin' of the statute, gamblin'—common gamblin'—don't exist
-a-tall. It jest natchally ain't.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Understand me, I'm speaking accordin' to a strict legal construction of
-the issue. And so, ef gamblin' don't exist there couldn't 'a' been no
-gamblin' goin' on upstairs over the Blue Jug saloon and restauraw on the
-night in question. In fact, ef you carry the point out to its logical
-endin' there couldn't 'a' been no night in question neither. In any event,
-ef the person Magee could by any chance prove he was there, in the said
-place, on the said date, at the said time, it would appear that he was
-present fur the purpose of evadin' and defyin' the law, and so ef somebody
-ostensibly and apparently seemed to happen along and did by threat and
-duress deprive him of somethin' of seemin' value, he still wouldn't have
-no standin' in court because he couldn't come with clean hands hisse'f to
-press the charge.
-</p>
-<p>
-“But there ain't no need to go into that phase and aspect of the
-proposition because we know now that, legally, he wasn't even there. Not
-bein' there, of course he wasn't engaged in carryin' on a game of chance.
-Not bein' so engaged, it stands to reason he didn't lose nothin' of value.
-Ef he states otherwise we are bound to believe him to be a victim of a
-diseased and an overwrought mind. And so there, I take it, is the way it
-stands, so fur ez you are concerned, Mister Flournoy. You can't ask a
-Grand Jury to return an indictment ag'inst a figment of the imagination,
-kin you? Why, boy, they'd laugh at you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I certainly can't, Judge,” agreed the young man blithely. “I don't know
-how the venerable gentlemen composing the court of last resort in this
-state would look upon the issue if it were carried up to them on appeal,
-but for my purposes you've stated the law beautifully.” He was grinning
-broadly as he stood up and reached for his hat and his gloves. “I'm going
-now to break the blow to our long-legged friend.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Whilst you're about it you mout tell him somethin' else,” stated his
-superior. “In fact, you mout let the word seep round sort of
-promiscuous-like that I'm aimin' to direct the special attention of the
-next Grand Jury to the official conduct of certain members of the police
-force of our fair little city. Ez regards the suppressin' and the
-punishin' of common gamblers, the law appears to be sort of loopholey at
-present; but mebbe ef we investigated the activities, or the lack of same,
-on the part of divers of our sworn peace officers, we mout be able to
-scotch the snake a little bit even ef we can't kill it outright. Anyway,
-I'm willin' to try the experiment. I reckin there's quite a number would
-be interested in hearin' them tidin's ef you're a mind to put 'em into
-circulation. Personally, I'm impressed with the idea that our civic
-atmosphere needs clarifyin' somewhut. All graftin' is hateful but it seems
-to me the little cheap graftin' that goes on sometimes in a small
-community is about the nastiest kind of graft there is. Don't you agree
-with me there?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Judge Priest,” stated Mr. Flournoy from the threshold, “I've about made
-up my mind that I'm always going to agree with you.” Inside of two hours
-the commonwealth's attorney returned from his errand, apparently much
-exalted of spirit.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Say, Judge,” he proclaimed as he came through the door, “I imagine it
-won't be necessary for you to take the steps you were mentioning a while
-ago.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No, siree. Once I'd started it I judge the news must've spread pretty
-fast. Outside on the Square, as I was on my way back up here from
-downtown, Beck Giltner waylaid me to ask me to tell you for him that he
-was going to close down his game and try to make a living some other way.
-I'm no deep admirer of the life, works and character of Beck Giltner, but
-I'll say this much for him—he keeps his promise once he's made it.
-I'd take his word before I'd take the word of a lot of people who wouldn't
-speak to him on the street.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And we're going to lose our uncrowned king. Yes, sir, Highpockets the
-First is preparing to leave us flat. After hearing what I had to tell him,
-he said in a passionate sort of way that a man might as well quit a
-community where he can't get justice. I gather that he's figuring on
-pulling his freight for some more populous spot where he can enjoy a wider
-field of endeavour and escape the vulgar snickers of the multitude. He
-spoke of Chicago.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Ah, hah!” said Judge Priest; and then after a little pause: “Well,
-Jerome, my son, ef I have to give up any member of this here community I
-reckin Mister Highpockets Elmer Magee, Esquire, is probably the one I kin
-spare the easiest. When is he aimin' to go from us?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Right away, I think, from what he said.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well,” went on Judge Priest, “ef so be you should happen to run acros't
-him ag'in before he takes his departure from amongst us you mout—in
-strict confidence, of course—tell him somethin' else. He mout care
-to ponder on it while he is on his way elsewhere. That there old
-scattergun, which he looked down the barrels of it the other night, wasn't
-loaded.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Wasn't loaded? Whee!” chortled Mr. Flournoy. “Well, of all the good jokes——”
- </p>
-<p>
-He caught himself: “Say, Judge, how did you know it wasn't loaded?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Why, she told me, son—the Widder Norfleet told me so last night.
-You see she come runnin' over the back way from her house to my place—I
-glean somethin' had happened which made her think the time had arrived to
-put herself in touch with sech of the authorities ez she felt she could
-trust—and she detailed the whole circumstances to me. 'Twas me
-suggested to her that she'd better write you that there letter. In fact,
-you mout say I sort of dictated its gin'ral tenor. I told her that you ez
-the prosecutor was the one that'd be most interested in hearin' any formal
-statement she mout care to make, and so——”
- </p>
-<p>
-Mr. Flournoy slumped down into a handy chair and ran some fingers through
-his hair.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Then part of the joke is on me too,” he owned.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I wouldn't go so fur ez to say that,” spake Judge Priest soothingly.
-“Frum where I'm settin' it looks to me like the joke is mainly on quite a
-number of people.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And the shotgun wasn't loaded?” Seemingly Mr. Flournoy found it hard to
-credit his own ears.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It didn't have nary charge in ary barrel,” reaffirmed the old man. “That
-little woman had the spunk to go up there all alone by herse'f and bluff a
-whole roomful of grown men, but she didn't dare to load up her old fusee—said
-she didn't know how, in the first place, and, in the second place, she was
-skeered it mout go off and hurt somebody. Jerome, ain't that fur all the
-world jest like a woman?”
- </p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-IX. A BEAUTIFUL EVENING *
-</h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-* Publisher's Note—Under a different title this story was
-printed originally in another volume of Mr. Cobb's. It is
-included here in order to complete the chronicles of Judge
-Priest and his people as begun in the book called “Back
-Home” and continued in this book.
-</pre>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HERE was a sound, heard in the early hours of a Sunday morning, that used
-to bother strangers until they got used to it. It started usually along
-about half past five or six o'clock and it kept up interminably—so
-it seemed to them—a monotonous, jarring thump-thump, thump-thump
-that was like the far-off beating of African tomtoms; but at breakfast,
-when the beaten biscuits came upon the table, throwing off a steamy hot
-halo of their own goodness, the aliens knew what it was that had roused
-them, and, unless they were dyspeptics by nature, felt amply recompensed
-for those lost hours of beauty sleep.
-</p>
-<p>
-In these degenerate days I believe there is a machine that accomplishes
-the same purpose noiselessly by a process of rolling and crushing, which
-no doubt is efficacious; but it seems somehow to take the poetry out of
-the operation. Judge Priest, and the reigning black deity of his kitchen,
-would have naught of it. So long as his digestion survived and her good
-right arm held out to endure, there would be real beaten biscuits for the
-judge's Sunday morning breakfast. And so, having risen with the dawn, Aunt
-Dilsey, wielding a maul-headed tool of whittled wood, would pound the
-dough with rhythmic strokes until it was as plastic as sculptor's
-modelling clay and as light as eiderdown, full of tiny hills and hollows,
-in which small yeasty bubbles rose and spread and burst like foam globules
-on the flanks of gentle wavelets. Then, with her master hand, she would
-roll it thin and cut out the small round disks and delicately pink each
-one with a fork—and then, if you were listening, you could hear the
-stove door slam like the smacking of an iron lip.
-</p>
-<p>
-On a Sunday morning I have in mind, Judge Priest woke with the first
-premonitory thud from the kitchen, and he was up and dressed in his white
-linens and out upon the wide front porch while the summer day was young
-and unblemished. The sun was not up good yet. It made a red glow, like a
-barn afire, through the treetops looking eastward. Lie-abed blackbirds
-were still talking over family matters in the maples that clustered round
-the house, and in the back yard Judge Priest's big red rooster hoarsely
-circulated gossip in regard to a certain little brown hen, first crowing
-out the news loudly and then listening, with his head on one side, while
-the rooster in the next yard took it up and repeated it to a rooster
-living farther along, as is the custom among male scandalisers the world
-over. Upon the lawn the little gossamer hammocks that the grass spiders
-had seamed together overnight were spangled with dew, so that each
-out-thrown thread was a glittering rosary and the centre of each web a
-silken, cushioned jewel casket. Likewise each web was outlined in white
-mist, for the cottonwood trees were shedding down their podded product so
-thickly that across open spaces the slanting lines of drifting fibre
-looked like snow. It would be hot enough after a while, but now the whole
-world was sweet and fresh and washed clean.
-</p>
-<p>
-It impressed Judge Priest so. He lowered his bulk into a rustic chair made
-of hickory withes that gave to his weight, and put his thoughts upon
-breakfast and the goodness of the day; but presently, as he sat there, he
-saw something that set a frown between his eyes.
-</p>
-<p>
-He saw, coming down Clay Street, upon the opposite side, an old man—a
-very feeble old man—who was tall and thin and dressed in sombre
-black. The man was lame—he dragged one leg along with the hitching
-gait of the paralytic. Travelling with painful slowness, he came on until
-he reached the corner above.
-</p>
-<p>
-Then automatically he turned at right angles and left the narrow wooden
-sidewalk and crossed the dusty road. He passed Judge Priest's, looking
-neither to the right nor the left, and so kept on until he reached the
-corner below. Still following an invisible path in the deep-furrowed dust,
-he crossed again to the far side. Just as he got there his halt leg seemed
-to give out altogether and for a minute or two he stood holding himself up
-by a fumbling grip upon the slats of a tree box before he went laboriously
-on, a figure of pain and weakness in the early sunshine that was now
-beginning to slant across his path and dapple his back with checkerings of
-shadow and light.
-</p>
-<p>
-This manoeuvre was inexplicable—a stranger would have puzzled to
-make it out. The shade was as plentiful upon one side of Clay Street as
-upon the other; each sagged wooden sidewalk was in as bad repair as its
-brother over the way. The small, shabby frame house, buried in
-honeysuckles and balsam vines, which stood close up to the pavement line
-on the opposite side of Clay Street, facing Judge Priest's roomy, rambling
-old home, had no flag of pestilence at its door or its window. And surely
-to this lone pedestrian every added step must have been an added labour. A
-stranger would never have understood it; but Judge Priest understood it—he
-had seen that same thing repeated countless times in the years that
-stretched behind him. Always it had distressed him inwardly, but on this
-particular morning it distressed him more than ever. The toiling grim
-figure in black had seemed so feeble and so tottery and old.
-</p>
-<p>
-Well, Judge Priest was not exactly what you would call young. With an
-effort he heaved himself up out of the depths of his hickory chair and
-stood at the edge of his porch, polishing a pink dome of forehead as
-though trying to make up his mind to something. Jefferson Poindexter,
-resplendent in starchy white jacket and white apron, came to the door.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Breakfus' served, suh!” he said, giving to an announcement touching on
-food that glamour of grandeur of which his race alone enjoys the splendid
-secret.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Hey?” asked the judge absently.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Breakfus'—hit's on the table waitin', suh,” stated Jeff. “Mizz
-Polks sent over her house-boy with a dish of fresh razberries fur yore
-breakfus'; and she say to tell you, with her and Mistah Polkses'
-compliments, they is fresh picked out of her garden—specially fur
-you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The lady and gentleman to whom Jeff had reference were named Polk, but in
-speaking of white persons for whom he had a high regard Jeff always,
-wherever possible within the limitations of our speech, tacked on that
-final <i>s.</i> It was in the nature of a delicate verbal compliment,
-implying that the person referred to was worthy of enlargement and
-pluralisation.
-</p>
-<p>
-Alone in the cool, high-ceiled, white-walled dining room, Judge Priest ate
-his breakfast mechanically. The raspberries were pink beads of sweetness;
-the young fried chicken a poem in delicate and flaky browns; the spoon
-bread could not have been any better if it had tried; and the beaten
-biscuits were as light as snowflakes and as ready to melt on the tongue;
-as symmetrical too as poker-chips, and like poker-chips, subject to a
-sudden disappearance from in front of one; but Judge Priest spoke hardly a
-word all through the meal. Jeff, going out to the kitchen for the last
-course, said to Aunt Dilsey:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ole boss-man seem lak he's got somethin' on his mind worryin' him this
-mawnin'.”
- </p>
-<p>
-When Jeff returned, with a turn of crisp waffles in one hand and a pitcher
-of cane sirup in the other, he stared in surprise, for the dining room was
-empty and he could hear his employer creaking down the hall. Jeff just
-naturally hated to see good hot waffles going to waste. He ate them
-himself, standing up; and they gave him a zest for his regular breakfast,
-which followed in due course of time.
-</p>
-<p>
-From the old walnut hatrack, with its white-tipped knobs that stood just
-inside the front door, the judge picked up a palmleaf fan; and he held the
-fan slantwise as a shield for his eyes and his bare head against the sun's
-glare as he went down the porch steps and passed out of his own yard,
-traversed the empty street and strove with the stubborn gate latch of the
-little house that faced his own. It was a poor-looking little house, and
-its poorness had extended to its surroundings—as if poverty was a
-contagion that spread. In Judge Priest's yard, now, the grass, though
-uncared for, yet grew thick and lush; but here, in this small yard, there
-were bare, shiny spots of earth showing through the' grass—as though
-the soil itself was out at elbows and the nap worn off its green-velvet
-coat; but the vines about the porch were thick enough for an ambuscade and
-from behind their green screen came a voice in hospitable recognition.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Is that you, Judge? Well, suh, I'm glad to see you! Come right in; take a
-seat and sit down and rest yourself.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The speaker showed himself in the arched opening of the vine barrier—an
-old man—not quite so old, perhaps, as the judge. He was in his
-shirtsleeves. There was a patch upon one of the sleeves. His shoes had
-been newly shined, but the job was poorly done; the leather showed a
-dulled black upon the toes and a weathered yellow at the sides and heels.
-As he spoke his voice ran up and down—the voice of a deaf person who
-cannot hear his own words clearly, so that he pitches them in a false key.
-For added proof of this affliction he held a lean and slightly tremulous
-hand cupped behind his ear.
-</p>
-<p>
-The other hand he extended in greeting as the old judge mounted the step
-of the low porch.
-</p>
-<p>
-The visitor took one of two creaky wooden rockers that stood in the narrow
-space behind the balsam vines, and for a minute or two he sat without
-speech, fanning himself. Evidently these neighbourly calls between these
-two old men were not uncommon; they could enjoy the communion of silence
-together without embarrassment.
-</p>
-<p>
-The town clocks struck—first the one on the city hall struck eight
-times sedately, and then, farther away, the one on the county courthouse.
-This one struck five times slowly, hesitated a moment, struck eleven times
-with great vigour, hesitated again, struck once with a big, final boom,
-and was through. No amount of repairing could cure the courthouse clock of
-this peculiarity. It kept the time, but kept it according to a private way
-of its own. Immediately after it ceased the bell on the Catholic church,
-first and earliest of the Sunday bells, began tolling briskly. Judge
-Priest waited until its clamouring had died away.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Goin' to be good and hot after 'while,” he said, raising his voice.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What say?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I say it's goin' to be mighty warm a little later on in the day,”
- repeated Judge Priest.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes, suh; I reckon you're right there,” assented the host. “Just a minute
-ago, before you came over, I was telling Liddie she'd find it middlin'
-close in church this morning. She's going, though—runaway horses
-wouldn't keep her away from church! I'm not going myself—seems as
-though I'm getting more and more out of the church habit here lately.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest's eyes squinted in whimsical appreciation of this admission.
-He remembered that the other man, during the lifetime of his second wife,
-had been a regular attendant at services—going twice on Sundays and
-to Wednesday night prayer meetings too; but the second wife had been dead
-going on four years now—or was it five? Time sped so!
-</p>
-<p>
-The deaf man spoke on:
-</p>
-<p>
-“So I just thought I'd sit here and try to keep cool and wait for that
-little Ledbetter boy to come round with the Sunday paper. Did you read
-last Sunday's paper, Judge? Colonel Watterson certainly had a mighty fine
-piece on those Northern money devils. It's round here somewhere—I
-cut it out to keep it. I'd like to have you read it and pass your opinion
-on it. These young fellows do pretty well, but there's none of them can
-write like the colonel, in my judgment.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest appeared not to have heard him. “Ed Tilghman,” he said
-abruptly in his high, fine voice, that seemed absurdly out of place,
-coming from his round frame, “you and me have lived neighbours together a
-good while, ain't we? We've been right acros't the street frum one another
-all this time. It kind of jolts me sometimes when I git to thinkin' how
-many years it's really been; because we're gittin' along right smartly in
-years—all us old fellows are. Ten years frum now, say, there won't
-be so many of us left.” He glanced side-wise at the lean, firm profile of
-his friend. “You're younger than some of us; but, even so, you ain't
-exactly whut I'd call a young man yourse.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Avoiding the direct questioning gaze that his companion turned on him at
-this, the judge reached forward and touched a ripe balsam apple that
-dangled in front of him. Instantly it split, showing the gummed red seeds
-clinging to the inner walls of the sensitive pod.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I'm listening to you, Judge,” said the deaf man.
-</p>
-<p>
-For a moment the old judge waited. There was about him almost an air of
-diffidence. Still considering the ruin of the balsam apple, he spoke, and
-it was with a sort of hurried anxiety, as though he feared he might be
-checked before he said what he had to say:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ed, I was settin' on my porch a while ago waitin' fur breakfast, and your
-brother came by.” He shot a quick, apprehensive glance at his silent
-auditor. Except for a tautened flickering of the muscles about the mouth,
-there was no sign that the other had heard him. “Your brother Abner came
-by,” repeated the judge, “and I set over yonder on my porch and watched
-him pass. Ed, Abner's gittin' mighty feeble! He jest about kin drag
-himself along—he's had another stroke lately, they tell me. He had
-to hold on to that there treebox down yonder, stiddyin' himself after he
-cross't back over to this side. Lord knows what he was doin' draggin'
-downtown on a Sunday mornin'—force of habit, I reckin. Anyway he
-certainly did look older and more poorly than ever I saw him before. He's
-a failin' man ef I'm any judge. Do you hear me plain?” he asked.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I hear you,” said his neighbour in a curiously flat voice. It was
-Tilghman's turn to avoid the glances of his friend. He stared straight
-ahead of him through a rift in the vines.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, then,” went on Judge Priest, “here's whut I've got to say to you,
-Ed Tilghman. You know as well as I do that I've never pried into your
-private affairs, and it goes mightily ag'inst the grain fur me to be doin'
-so now; but, Ed, when I think of how old we're all gittin' to be, and when
-the Camp meets and I see you settin' there side by side almost, and yit
-never seemin' to see each other—and this mornin' when I saw Abner
-pass, lookin' so gaunted and sick—and it sech a sweet, ca'm mornin'
-too, and everythin' so quiet and peaceful-” He broke off and started anew.
-“I don't seem to know exactly how to put my thoughts into words—and
-puttin' things into words is supposed to be my trade too. Anyway I
-couldn't go to Abner. He's not my neighbour and you are; and besides,
-you're the youngest of the two. So—so I came over here to you. Ed,
-I'd like mightily to take some word frum you to your brother Abner. I'd
-like to do it the best in the world! Can't I go to him with a message frum
-you—to-day? To-morrow might be too late!”
- </p>
-<p>
-He laid one of his pudgy hands on the bony knee of the deaf man; but the
-hand slipped away as Tilghman stood up.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Judge Priest,” said Tilghman, looking down at him, “I've listened to what
-you've had to say; and I didn't stop you, because you are my friend and I
-know you mean well by it. Besides, you're my guest, under my own roof.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He stumped back and forth in the narrow confines of the porch. Otherwise
-he gave no sign of any emotion that might be astir within him, his face
-being still set and his voice flat. “What's between me and my—what's
-between me and that man you just named always will be between us. He's
-satisfied to let things go on as they are. I'm satisfied to let them go
-on. It's in our breed, I guess. Words—just words—wouldn't help
-mend this thing. The reason for it would be there just the same, and
-neither one of us is going to be able to forget that so long as we both
-live. I'd just as lief you never brought this—this subject up again.
-If you went to him I presume he'd tell you the same thing. Let it be,
-Judge Priest—it's past mending. We two have gone on this way for
-fifty years nearly. We'll keep on going on so. I appreciate your kindness,
-Judge Priest; but let it be—let it be!”
- </p>
-<p>
-There was finality miles deep and fixed as basalt in his tone. He checked
-his walk and called in at a shuttered window.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Laddie,” he said in his natural up-and-down voice, “before you put off
-for church, couldn't you mix up a couple of lemonades or something? Judge
-Priest is out here on the porch with me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No,” said Judge Priest, getting slowly up, “I've got to be gittin' back
-before the sun's up too high. Ef I don't see you ag'in meanwhile be shore
-to come to the next regular meetin' of the Camp—on Friday night,” he
-added.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I'll be there,” said Tilghman. “And I'll try to find that piece of
-Colonel Watterson's and send it over to you. I'd like mightily for you to
-read it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He stood at the opening in the vines, with one slightly palsied hand
-fumbling at a loose tendril as the judge passed down the short yard-walk
-and out at the gate. Then he went back to his chair and sat down again.
-All the little muscles in his jowls were jumping.
-</p>
-<p>
-Clay Street was no longer empty. Looking down its dusty length from
-beneath the shelter of his palmleaf fan, Judge Priest saw here and there
-groups of children—the little girls in prim and starchy white, the
-little boys hobbling in the Sunday torment of shoes and stockings; and all
-of them moving toward a common centre—Sunday school. Twice again
-that day would the street show life—a little later when grown-ups
-went their way to church, and again just after the noonday dinner, when
-young people and servants, carrying trays and dishes under napkins, would
-cross and recross from one house to another. The Sunday interchange of
-special dainties between neighbours amounted to a ceremonial; but after
-that, until the cool of the evening, the town would simmer in quiet, while
-everybody took a Sunday nap.
-</p>
-<p>
-With his fan, Judge Priest made an angry sawing motion in the air, as
-though trying to fend off something disagreeable—a memory, perhaps,
-or it might have been only a persistent midge. There were plenty of gnats
-and midges about, for by now—even so soon—the dew was dried.
-The leaves of the silver poplars were turning their white under sides up
-like countless frog bellies, and the long, podded pendants of the
-Injun-cigar trees hung dangling and still. It would be a hot day, sure
-enough; already the judge felt wilted and worn out.
-</p>
-<p>
-In our town we had our tragedies that endured for years and, in the
-small-town way, finally became institutions. There was the case of the
-Burnleys. For thirty-odd years old Major Burnley lived on one side of his
-house and his wife lived on the other, neither of them ever crossing an
-imaginary dividing line that ran down the middle of the hall, having for
-their medium of intercourse all that time a lean, spinster daughter, in
-whose grey and barren life churchwork and these strange home duties took
-the place that Nature had intended to be filled by a husband and by babies
-and grand-babies.
-</p>
-<p>
-There was crazy Saul Vance, in his garb of a fantastic scarecrow, who was
-forever starting somewhere and never going there—because, so sure as
-he came to a place where two roads crossed, he could not make up his mind
-which turn to take. In his youth a girl had jilted him, or a bank had
-failed on him, or a colt had kicked him in the head—or maybe it was
-all three of these things that had addled his poor brains. Anyhow he went
-his pitiable, aimless way for years, taunted daily by small boys who were
-more cruel than jungle beasts. How he lived nobody knew, but when he died
-some of the men who as boys had jeered him turned out to be his volunteer
-pallbearers.
-</p>
-<p>
-There was Mr. H. Jackman—Brother Jackman to all the town—who
-had been our leading hatter once and rich besides, and in the days of his
-affluence had given the Baptist church its bells. In his old age, when he
-was dog-poor, he lived on charity, only it was not known by that word,
-which is at once the sweetest and the bitterest word in our tongue; for
-Brother Jackman, always primped, always plump and well clad, would go
-through the market to take his pick of what was there, and to the Richland
-House bar for his toddies, and to Felsburg Brothers for new garments when
-his old ones wore shabby—and yet never paid a cent for anything; a
-kindly conspiracy on the part of the whole town enabling him to maintain
-his self-respect to the last. Strangers in our town used to take him for a
-retired banker—that's a fact!
-</p>
-<p>
-And there was old man Stackpole, who had killed his man—killed him
-in fair fight and was acquitted—and yet walked quiet back streets at
-all hours, a grey, silent shadow, and never slept except with a bright
-light burning in his room.
-</p>
-<p>
-The tragedy of Mr. Edward Tilghman, though, and of Captain Abner G.
-Tilghman, his elder brother, was both a tragedy and a mystery—the
-biggest tragedy and the deepest mystery the town had ever known or ever
-would know probably. All that anybody knew for certain was that for upward
-of fifty years neither of them had spoken to the other, nor by deed or
-look had given heed to the other. As boys, back in sixty-one, they had
-gone out together. Side by side, each with his arm over the other's
-shoulder, they had stood up with more than a hundred others to be sworn
-into the service of the Confederate States of America; and on the morning
-they went away Miss Sally May Ghoulson had given the older brother her
-silk scarf off her shoulders to wear for a sash. Both the brothers had
-liked her; but by this public act she made it plain which of them was her
-choice.
-</p>
-<p>
-Then the company had marched off to the camp below the Tennessee border,
-where the new troops were drilling; and as they marched some watchers wept
-and others cheered—but the cheering predominated, for it was to be
-only a sort of picnic anyhow—so everybody agreed. As the orators—who
-mainly stayed behind—pointed out, the Northern people would not
-fight. And even if they should fight could not one Southerner whip four
-Yankees? Certainly he could; any fool knew that much. In a month or two
-months, or at most three months, they would all be tramping home again,
-covered with glory and the spoils of war, and then—this by common
-report and understanding—Miss Sally May Ghoulson and Abner Tilghman
-would be married, with a big church wedding.
-</p>
-<p>
-The Yankees, however, unaccountably fought, and it was not a ninety-day
-picnic after all. It was not any kind of a picnic. And when it was over,
-after four years and a month, Miss Sally May Ghoulson and Abner Tilghman
-did not marry. It was just before the battle of Chickamauga when the other
-men in the company first noticed that the two Tilghmans had become as
-strangers, and worse than strangers, to each other. They quit speaking to
-each other then and there, and to any man's knowledge they never spoke
-again. They served the war out, Abner rising just before the end to a
-captaincy, Edward serving always as a private in the ranks. In a dour,
-grim silence they took the fortunes of those last hard, hopeless days and
-after the surrender down in Mississippi they came back with the limping
-handful that was left of the company; and in age they were all boys still—but
-in experience, men, and in suffering, grandsires.
-</p>
-<p>
-Two months alter they got back Miss Sally May Ghoulson was married to
-Edward, the younger brother. Within a year she died, and after a decent
-period of mourning Edward married a second time—only to be widowed
-again after many years. His second wife bore him children and they died—all
-except one, a daughter, who grew up and married badly; and after her
-mother's death she came back to live with her deaf father and to minister
-to him. As for Captain Abner Tilghman, he never married—never, so
-far as the watching eyes of the town might tell, looked with favour upon
-any woman. And he never spoke to his brother or to any of his brother's
-family—or his brother to him.
-</p>
-<p>
-With years the wall of silence they had builded up between them turned to
-ice and the ice to stone. They lived on the same street, but never did
-Edward enter Captain Abner's bank, never did Captain Abner pass Edward's
-house—always he crossed over to the opposite side. They belonged to
-the same Veterans' Camp—indeed there was only the one for them to
-belong to; they voted the same ticket—straight Democratic; and in
-the same church, the old Independent Presbyterian, they worshipped the
-same God by the same creed, the older brother being an elder and the
-younger a plain member—and yet never crossed looks.
-</p>
-<p>
-The town had come to accept this dumb and bitter feud as unchangeable and
-eternal; in time people ceased even to wonder what its cause had been, and
-in all the long years only one man had tried, before now, to heal it up.
-When old Doctor Henrickson died, a young and earnest clergyman, fresh from
-a Virginia theological school, came out to take the vacant pulpit; and he,
-being filled with a high sense of his holy calling, thought it shameful
-that such a thing should be in the congregation. He went to see Captain
-Tilghman about it. He never went but once. Afterward it came out that
-Captain Tilghman had threatened to walk out of church and never darken its
-doors again if the minister ever dared to mention his brother's name in
-his presence. So the young minister sorrowed, but obeyed, for the captain
-was rich and a generous giver to the church.
-</p>
-<p>
-And he had grown richer with the years, and as he grew richer his brother
-grew poorer—another man owned the drug store where Edward Tilghman
-had failed. They had grown from young to middle-aged men and from
-middle-aged men to old, infirm men; and first the grace of youth and then
-the solidness of maturity had gone out of them and the gnarliness of age
-had come upon them; one was halt of step and the other was dull of ear;
-and the town through half a century of schooling had accustomed itself to
-the situation and took it as a matter of course. So it was and so it
-always would be—a tragedy and a mystery. It had not been of any use
-when the minister interfered; it was of no use now. Judge Priest, with the
-gesture of a man who is beaten, dropped the fan on the porch floor, went
-into his darkened sitting room, stretched himself wearily on a creaking
-horsehide sofa and called out to Jeff to make him a mild toddy—one
-with plenty of ice in it.
-</p>
-<p>
-On this same Sunday—or, anyhow, I like to fancy it was on this same
-Sunday—at a point distant approximately nine hundred and seventy
-miles in a northeasterly direction from Judge Priest's town, Corporal
-Jacob Speck, late of Sigel's command, sat at the kitchen window of the
-combined Speck and Engel apartment on East Eighty-fifth Street in the
-Borough of Manhattan, New York. He was in his shirtsleeves; his tender
-feet were incased in a pair of red-and-green carpet slippers. In the angle
-of his left arm he held his youngest grandchild, aged one and a half
-years, while his right hand carefully poised a china pipe, with a bowl
-like an egg-cup and a stem like a fishpole. The corporal's blue Hanoverian
-eyes, behind their thick-lensed glasses, were fixed upon a comprehensive
-vista of East Eighty-fifth Street back yards and clothespoles and fire
-escapes; but his thoughts were elsewhere.
-</p>
-<p>
-Reared back there at seeming ease, the corporal none the less was
-distracted in his mind. It was not that he so much minded being left at
-home to mind the youngest baby while the rest of the family spent the
-afternoon amid the Teutonic splendours of Smeltzer's Harlem River Casino,
-with its acres of gravel walks and its whitewashed tree trunks, its
-straggly flower beds and its high-collared beers. He was used to that sort
-of thing. Since a plague of multiplying infirmities of the body had driven
-him out of his job in the tax office, the corporal had not done much
-except nurse the babies that occurred in the Speck-Engel establishment
-with such unerring regularity. Sometimes, it is true, he did slip down to
-the corner for maybe zwei glasses of beer and a game of pinocle; but then,
-likely as not, there would come inopportunely a towheaded descendant to
-tell him Mommer needed him back at the flat right away to mind the baby
-while she went marketing or to the movies.
-</p>
-<p>
-He could endure that—he had to. What riled Corporal Jacob Speck on
-this warm and sunny Sunday was a realisation that he was not doing his
-share at making the history of the period. The week before had befallen
-the fiftieth anniversary of the marching away of his old regiment to the
-front; there had been articles in the papers about it. Also, in patriotic
-commemoration of the great event there had been a parade of the wrinkled
-survivors—ninety-odd of them—following their tattered, faded
-battle flag down Fifth Avenue past apathetic crowds, nine-tenths of whom
-had been born since the war—in foreign lands mainly; and at least
-half, if one might judge by their looks, did not know what the parading
-was all about, and did not particularly care either.
-</p>
-<p>
-The corporal had not participated in the march of the veterans; he had not
-even at-tended the banquet that followed it. True, his youngest grandchild
-was at the moment cutting one of her largest jaw teeth and so had
-required, for the time, an extraordinary and special amount of minding;
-but the young lady's dental difficulty was not the sole reason for his
-absence. Three weeks earlier the corporal had taken part in Decoration
-Day, and certainly one parade a month was ample strain upon underpinning
-such as he owned. He had returned home with his game leg behaving more
-gamely then usual and his sound one full of new and painful kinks. Also,
-in honour of the occasion, he had committed the error of wearing a pair of
-stiff new shoes; wherefore he had favoured carpet slippers ever since.
-</p>
-<p>
-Missing the fiftieth anniversary was not the main point with the corporal—that
-was merely the fortune of war, to be accepted with fortitude and with no
-more than a proper and natural amount of grumbling by one who had been a
-good soldier and was now a good citizen; but for days before the event,
-and daily ever since, divers members of the old regiment had been writing
-pieces to the papers—the German papers and the English-printing
-papers too—long pieces, telling of the trip to Washington, and then
-on into Virginia and across to Tennessee, speaking of this campaign and
-that and this battle and that. And because there was just now a passing
-wave of interest in Civil War matters, the papers had printed these
-contributions, thereby reflecting much glory on the writers thereof. But
-Corporal Speck, reading these things, had marvelled deeply that sane men
-should have such disgustingly bad memories; for his own recollection of
-these events differed most widely from the reminiscent narration of each
-misguided chronicler.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was, indeed, a shameful thing that the most important occurrences of
-the whole war should be so shockingly mangled and mishandled in the
-retelling. They were so grievously wrong, those other veterans, and he was
-so absolutely right. He was always right in these matters. Only the night
-before, during a merciful respite from nursing duties, he had, in Otto
-Wittenpen's back barroom, spoken across the rim of a tall stein with some
-bitterness regarding certain especially grievous misstatements of plain
-fact on the part of faulty-minded comrades. In reply Otto had said, in a
-rather sneering tone the corporal thought:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Say, then, Jacob, why don't you yourself write a piece to the paper
-telling about this regiment of yours—the way it was?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I will. To-morrow I will do so without fail,” he had said, the ambition
-of authorship suddenly stirring within him. Now, however, as he sat at the
-kitchen window, he gloomed in his disappointment, for he had tried and he
-knew he had not the gift of the written line. A good soldier he had been—ja,
-none better—and a good citizen, and in his day a capable and
-painstaking doorkeeper in the tax office; but he could not write his own
-story. That morning, when the youngest grandbaby slept and his daughter
-and his daughter's husband and the brood of his older grandchildren were
-all at the Lutheran church over in the next block, he sat himself down to
-compose his article to the paper; but the words would not come—or,
-at least, after the first line or two they would not come.
-</p>
-<p>
-The mental pictures of those stirring great days when he marched off on
-his two good legs—both good legs then—to fight for the country
-whose language he could not yet speak were there in bright and living
-colours; but the sorry part of it was he could not clothe them in
-language. In the trash box under the sink a dozen crumpled sheets of paper
-testified to his failure, and now, alone with the youngest Miss Engel, he
-brooded over it and got low in his mind and let his pipe go smack out. And
-right then and there, with absolutely no warning at all, there came to
-him, as you might say from the clear sky, a great idea—an idea so
-magnificent that he almost dropped little Miss Engel off his lap at the
-splendid shock of it.
-</p>
-<p>
-With solicitude he glanced down at the small, moist, pink, lumpy bundle of
-prickly heat and sore gums. Despite the jostle the young lady slept
-steadily on. Very carefully he laid his pipe aside and very carefully he
-got upon his feet, jouncing his charge soothingly up and down, and with
-deftness he committed her small person to the crib that stood handily by.
-She stirred fretfully, but did not wake. The corporal steered his gimpy
-leg and his rheumatic one out of the kitchen, which was white with
-scouring and as clean as a new pin, into the rearmost and smallest of the
-three sleeping rooms that mainly made up the Speck-Engel apartment.
-</p>
-<p>
-The bed, whereon of nights Corporal Speck reposed with a bucking bronco of
-an eight-year-old grandson for a bedmate, was jammed close against the
-plastering, under the one small window set diagonally in a jog in the
-wall, and opening out upon an airshaft, like a chimney. Time had been when
-the corporal had a room and a bed all his own; that was before the family
-began to grow so fast in its second generation and he still held a place
-of lucrative employment at the tax office.
-</p>
-<p>
-As he got down upon his knees beside the bed the old man uttered a little
-groan of discomfort. He felt about in the space underneath and drew out a
-small tin trunk, rusted on its corners and dented in its sides. He made a
-laborious selection of keys from a key-ring he got out of his pocket,
-unlocked the trunk and lifted out a heavy top tray. The tray contained,
-among other things, such treasures as his naturalisation papers, his
-pension papers, a photograph of his dead wife, and a small bethumbed
-passbook of the East Side Germania Savings Bank. Underneath was a black
-fatigue hat with a gold cord round its crown, a neatly folded blue uniform
-coat, with the G. A. R. bronze showing in its uppermost lapel, and below
-that, in turn, the suit of neat black the corporal wore on high state
-occasions and would one day wear to be buried in. Pawing and digging, he
-worked his hands to the very bottom, and then, with a little grunt, he
-heaved out the thing he wanted—the one trophy, except a stiffened
-kneecap and an honourable record, this old man brought home from the
-South. It was a captured Confederate knapsack, flattened and flabby. Its
-leather was dry-rotted with age and the brass C. S. A. on the outer flap
-was gangrened and sunken in; the flap curled up stiffly, like an old shoe
-sole.
-</p>
-<p>
-The crooked old fingers undid a buckle fastening and from the musty and
-odorous interior of the knapsack withdrew a letter, in a queer-looking
-yellowed envelope, with a queer-looking stamp upon the upper right-hand
-corner and a faint superscription upon its face. The three sheets of paper
-he slid out of the envelope were too old even to rustle, but the close
-writing upon them in a brownish, faded ink was still plainly to be made
-out.
-</p>
-<p>
-Corporal Speck replaced the knapsack in its place at the very bottom, put
-the tray back in its place, closed the trunk and locked it and shoved it
-under the bed. The trunk resisted slightly and he lost one carpet slipper
-and considerable breath in the struggle. Limping back to the kitchen and
-seeing little Miss Engel still slumbered, he eased his frame into a chair
-and composed himself to literary composition, not in the least disturbed
-by the shouts of roistering sidewalk comedians that filtered up to him
-from down below in front of the house, or by the distant clatter of
-intermittent traffic over the cobbly spine of Second Avenue, half a block
-away. For some time he wrote, with a most scratchy pen; and this is what
-he wrote:
-</p>
-<p>
-“To the Editor of the 'Sun,' City,
-</p>
-<p>
-“Dear Sir: The undersigned would state that he served two years and nine
-months—until wounded in action—in the Fighting Two Hundred and
-Tenth New York Infantry, and has been much interested to see what other
-comrades wrote for the papers regarding same in connection with the
-Rebellion War of North and South respectively. I would state that during
-the battle of Chickamauga I was for a while lying near by to a Confederate
-soldier—name unknown—who was dying on account of a wound in
-the chest. By his request I gave him a drink of water from my canteen, he
-dying shortly thereafter. Being myself wounded—right knee shattered
-by a Minie ball—I was removed to a field hospital; but before doing
-so I brought away this man's knapsack for a keepsake of the occasion. Some
-years later I found in said knapsack a letter, which previous to then was
-overlooked by me. I inclose herewith a copy of said letter, which it may
-be interesting for reading purposes by surviving comrades.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Respectfully yours,
-</p>
-<p>
-“Jacob Speck,
-</p>
-<p>
-“Late Corporal L Company,
-</p>
-<p>
-“Fighting Two Hundred and Tenth New York, U. S. A.”
- </p>
-<p>
-With deliberation and squeaky emphasis the pen progressed slowly across
-the paper, while the corporal, with his left hand, held flat the dead
-man's ancient letter before him, intent on copying it. Hard words puzzled
-him and long words daunted him, and he was making a long job of it when
-there were steps in the hall without. Entered breezily Miss Hortense
-Engel, the eldest of all the multiplying Engels, pretty beyond question
-and every inch American, having the gift of wearing Lower Sixth Avenue's
-stock designs in a way to make them seem Upper Fifth Avenue's imported
-models. Miss Engel's face was pleasantly flushed; she had just parted
-lingeringly from her steady company, Mr. Lawrence J. McLaughlin, plumber's
-helper, in the lower hallway, which is the trysting place and courting
-place of tenement-dwelling sweethearts, and now she had come to make ready
-the family's cold Sunday night tea. At sight of her the corporal had
-another inspiration—his second within the hour. His brow smoothed
-and he fetched a sigh of relief.
-</p>
-<p>
-“'Lo, grosspops!” she said. “How's every little thing? The kiddo all
-right?”
- </p>
-<p>
-She unpinned a Sunday hat that was plumed like a hearse and slipped on a
-long apron that covered her from high collar to hobble hem.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Girl,” said her grandfather, “would you make to-morrow for me at the
-office a copy of this letter on the typewriter machine?”
- </p>
-<p>
-He spoke in German and she answered in New-Yorkese, while her nimble
-fingers wrestled with the task of back-buttoning her apron.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Sure thing! It won't take hardly a minute to rattle that off.
-Funny-looking old thing!” she went on, taking up the creased and faded
-original. “Who wrote it? And whatcher goin' to do with it, grosspops?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That,” he told her, “is mine own business! It is for you, please, to make
-the copy and bring both to me to-morrow, the letter and also the copy.”
- </p>
-<p>
-So on Monday morning, when the rush of taking dictation at the offices of
-the Great American Hosiery Company, in Broome Street, was well abated, the
-competent Miss Hortense copied the letter, and that same evening her
-grandfather mailed it to the <i>Sun</i>, accompanied by his own
-introduction. The Sun straightway printed it without change and—what
-was still better—with the sender's name spelled out in capital
-letters; and that night, at the place down by the corner, Corporal Jacob
-Speck was a prophet not without honour in his own country. Much honour, in
-fact, accrued.
-</p>
-<p>
-You may remember that, upon a memorable occasion, Judge Priest went on a
-trip to New York and while there had dealings with a Mr. J. Hayden
-Witherbee, a promoter of gas and other hot-air propositions; and that
-during the course of his stay in the metropolis he made the acquaintance
-of one Malley, a <i>Sun</i> reporter. This had happened some years back,
-but Malley was still on the staff of the <i>Sun</i>. It happened also
-that, going through the paper to clip out and measure up his space, Malley
-came upon the corporal's contribution. Glancing over it idly, he caught
-the name, twice or thrice repeated, of the town where Judge Priest lived.
-So he bundled together a couple of copies and sent them South with a short
-letter; and therefore it came about in due season, through the good
-offices of the United States Post-office Department, these enclosures
-reached the judge on a showery Friday afternoon as he loafed upon his wide
-front porch, waiting for his supper.
-</p>
-<p>
-First, he read Malley's letter and was glad to hear from Malley. With a
-quickened interest he ran a plump thumb under the wrappings of the two
-close-rolled papers, opened out one of them at page ten and read the
-opening statement of Corporal Jacob Speck, for whom instantly the judge
-conceived a longdistance fondness. Next he came to the letter that Miss
-Hortense Engel had so accurately transcribed, and at the very first words
-of it he sat up straighter, with a surprised and gratified little grunt;
-for he had known them both—the writer of that letter and its
-recipient. One still lived in his memory as a red-haired girl with a pert,
-malicious face, and the other as a stripling youth in a ragged grey
-uniform. And he had known most of those whose names studded the printed
-lines so thickly. Indeed, some of them he still knew—only now they
-were old men and old women—faded, wrinkled bucks and belles of a
-far-distant day.
-</p>
-<p>
-As he read the first words it came back to the judge, almost with the
-jolting emphasis of a new and fresh sensation, that in the days of his own
-youth he had not liked the girl who wrote that letter nor the man who
-received it. But she was dead this many and many a year—why, she
-must have died soon after she wrote this very letter—the date proved
-that—and he, the man, had fallen at Chickamauga, taking his death in
-front like a soldier; and surely that settled everything and made all
-things right! But the letter—that was the main thing. His old blue
-eyes skipped nimbly behind the glasses that saddled the tip of his short
-pink nose, and the old judge read it—just such a letter as he
-himself had received many a time; just such a wartime letter as uncounted
-thousands of soldiers North and South received from their sweethearts and
-read and reread by the light of flickering campfires and carried afterward
-in their knapsacks through weary miles of marching.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was crammed with the small-town gossip of a small town that was but
-little more than a memory now—telling how, because he would not
-volunteer, a hapless youth had been waylaid by a dozen high-spirited girls
-and overpowered, and dressed in a woman's skirt and a woman's poke bonnet,
-so that he left town with his shame between two suns; how, since the
-Yankees had come, sundry faithless females were friendly—actually
-friendly, this being underscored—with the more personable of the
-young Yankee officers; how half the town was in mourning for a son or
-brother dead or wounded; how a new and sweetly sentimental song, called
-Rosalie, the Prairie Flower, was being much sung at the time—and had
-it reached the army yet?—how old Mrs. Hobbs had been exiled to
-Canada for seditious acts and language and had departed northward between
-two files of bluecoats, reviling the Yankees with an unbitted tongue at
-every step; how So-and-So had died or married or gone refugeeing below the
-enemy's line into safely Southern territory; how this thing had happened
-and that thing had not.
-</p>
-<p>
-The old judge read on and on, catching gladly at names that kindled a
-tenderly warm glow of half-forgotten memories in his soul, until he came
-to the last paragraph of all; and then, as he comprehended the intent of
-it in all its barbed and venomed malice, he stood suddenly erect, with the
-outspread paper shaking in his hard grip. For now, coming back to him by
-so strange a way across fifty years of silence and misunderstanding, he
-read there the answer to the town's oldest, biggest tragedy and knew what
-it was that all this time had festered, like buried thorns, in the flesh
-of those two men, his comrades and friends. He dropped the paper, and up
-and down the wide, empty porch he stumped on his short legs, shaking with
-the shock of revelation and with indignation and with pity for the blind
-and bitter uselessness of it all.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ah, hah!” he said to himself over and over again understandingly. “Ah,
-hah!” And then: “Next to a mean man, a mean woman is the meanest thing in
-this whole created world, I reckin. I ain't shore but whut she's the
-meanest of the two. And to think of what them two did between 'em—she
-writin' that hellish black lyin' tale to 'Lonzo Pike and he puttin' off
-hotfoot to Abner Tilghman to poison his mind with it and set him like a
-flint ag'inst his own flesh and blood! And wasn't it jest like Lon Pike to
-go and git himself killed the next day after he got that there letter! And
-wasn't it jest like her to up and die before the truth could be brought
-home to her! And wasn't it like them two stubborn, set, contrary,
-closemouthed Tilghman boys to go 'long through all these years, without
-neither one of 'em ever offerin' to make or take an explanation!” His tone
-changed. “Oh, ain't it been a pitiful thing! And all so useless! But—oh,
-thank the Lord—it ain't too late to mend it part way anyhow! Thank
-God, it ain't too late fur that!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Exulting now, he caught up the paper he had dropped, and with it crumpled
-in his pudgy fist was half-way down the gravel walk, bound for the little
-cottage snuggled in its vine ambush across Clay Street, before a better
-and a bigger inspiration caught up with him and halted him midway of an
-onward stride.
-</p>
-<p>
-Was not this the second Friday in the month? It certainly was. And would
-not the Camp be meeting to-night in regular semimonthly session at
-Kamleiter's Hall? It certainly would. For just a moment Judge Priest
-considered the proposition. He slapped his linen clad flank gleefully, and
-his round old face, which had been knotted with resolution, broke up into
-a wrinkly, ample smile; he spun on his heel and hurried back into the
-house and to the telephone in the hall. For half an hour, more or less,
-Judge Priest was busy at that telephone, calling in a high, excited voice,
-first for one number and then for another. While he did this his supper
-grew cold on the table, and in the dining room Jeff, the white-clad,
-fidgeted and out in the kitchen Aunt Dilsey, the tur-baned, fumed—but,
-at Kamleiter's Hall that night at eight, Judge Priest's industry was in
-abundant fulness rewarded.
-</p>
-<p>
-Once upon a time Gideon K. Irons Camp claimed a full two hundred members,
-but that had been when it was first organised. Now there were in good
-standing less than twenty. Of these twenty, fifteen sat on the hard wooden
-chairs when Judge Priest rapped with his metal spectacle case for order,
-and that fifteen meant all who could travel out at nights. Doctor Lake was
-there, and Sergeant Jimmy Bagby, the faithful and inevitable. It was the
-biggest turnout the Camp had had in a year.
-</p>
-<p>
-Far over on one side, cramped down in a chair, was Captain Abner Tilghman,
-feeble and worn-looking. His buggy horse stood hitched by the curb
-downstairs. Sergeant Jimmy Bagby had gone to his house for him and on the
-plea of business of vital moment had made him come with him. Almost
-directly across the middle aisle on the other side sat Mr. Edward
-Tilghman. Nobody had to go for him. He always came to a regular meeting of
-the Camp, even though he heard the proceedings only in broken bits.
-</p>
-<p>
-The adjutant called the roll and those present answered, each one to his
-name; and mainly the voices sounded bent and sagged, like the bodies of
-their owners. But a keen onlooker might have noticed a sort of tremulous,
-joyous impatience, which filled all save two of these old, grey men,
-pushing the preliminaries forward with uncommon speed. They fidgeted in
-their places.
-</p>
-<p>
-Presently Judge Priest cleared his throat of a persistent huskiness and
-stood up.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Before we purceed to the regular routine,” he piped, “I desire to present
-a certain matter to a couple of our members.” He came down off the little
-platform, where the flags were draped, with a step that was almost light,
-and into Captain Abner Tilghman's hand he put a copy of a city paper,
-turned and folded at a certain place, where a column of printed matter was
-scored about with heavy pencil bracketings. “Cap'n,” he said, “ez a
-personal favour to me, suh, would you please read this here article?—the
-one that's marked”—he pointed with his finger—“not aloud—read
-it to yourself, please.”
- </p>
-<p>
-It was characteristic of the paralytic to say nothing. Without a word he
-adjusted his glasses and without a word he began to read. So instantly
-intent was he that he did not see what followed next—and that was
-Judge Priest crossing over to Mr. Edward Tilghman's side with another copy
-of the same paper in his hand.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ed,” he bade him, “read this here article, won't you? Read it clear
-through to the end—it mout interest you mebbe.” The deaf man looked
-up at him wonderingly, but took the paper in his slightly palsied hand and
-bent his head close above the printed sheet.
-</p>
-<p>
-Judge Priest stood in the middle aisle, making no move to go back to his
-own place. He watched the two silent readers. All the others watched them
-too. They read on, making slow progress, for the light was poor and their
-eyes were poor. And the watchers could hardly contain themselves; they
-could hardly wait. Sergeant Jimmy Bagby kept bobbing up and down like a
-pudgy jack-in-the-box that is slightly stiff in its joints. A small,
-restrained rustle of bodies accompanied the rustle of the folded
-newspapers held in shaky hands.
-</p>
-<p>
-Unconscious of all scrutiny, the brothers read on. Perhaps because he had
-started first—perhaps because his glasses were the more expensive
-and presumably therefore the more helpful—Captain Abner Tilghman
-came to the concluding paragraph first. He read it through—and then
-Judge Priest turned his head away, for a moment almost regretting he had
-chosen so public a place for this thing.
-</p>
-<p>
-He looked back again in time to see Captain Abner getting upon his feet.
-Dragging his dead leg behind him, the paralytic crossed the bare floor to
-where his brother's grey head was bent to his task. And at his side he
-halted, making no sound or sign, but only waiting. He waited there,
-trembling all over, until the sitter came to the end of the column and
-read what was there—and lifted a face all glorified with a perfect
-understanding.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Eddie!” said the older man—“Eddie!” He uttered a name of boyhood
-affection that none there had heard uttered for fifty years nearly; and it
-was as though a stone had been rolled away from a tomb—as though out
-of the grave of a dead past a voice had risen resurrected. “Eddie!” he
-said a third time, pleadingly, abjectly, humbly, craving for forgiveness.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Brother Abner!” said the other man. “Oh, Brother Abner!” he said—and
-that was all he did say—all he had need to say, for he was on his
-feet now, reaching out with wide-spread, shaking arms.
-</p>
-<p>
-Sergeant Jimmy Bagby tried to start a yell, but could not make it come out
-of his throat—only a clicking, squeaking kind of sound came.
-Considered as a yell it was a miserable failure.
-</p>
-<p>
-Side by side, each with his inner arm tight gripped about the other, the
-brothers, bareheaded, turned their backs upon their friends and went away.
-Slowly they passed out through the doorway into the darkness of the stair
-landing, and the members of the Gideon K. Irons Camp were all up on their
-feet.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Mind that top step, Abner!” they heard the younger man say. “Wait! I'll
-help you down.” And that was all except a scuffling sound of uncertainly
-placed feet, growing fainter and fainter as the two brothers passed down
-the long stairs of Kamleiter's Hall and out into the night together—that
-was all, unless you would care to take cognisance of a subdued little
-chorus such as might be produced by twelve or thirteen elderly men
-snuffling in a large bare room. As commandant of the Camp it was fitting,
-perhaps, that Judge Priest should speak first.
-</p>
-<p>
-“The trouble with this here Camp is jest this,” he said: “it's got a lot
-of sniffln' old fools in it that don't know no better than to bust out
-cryin' when they oughter be happy!” And then, as if to prove how deeply he
-felt the shame of such weakness on the part of others, Judge Priest blew
-his nose with great violence, and for a space of minutes industriously
-mopped at his indignant eyes with an enormous pocket handkerchief.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<p>
-In accordance with a rule, Jeff Poindexter waited up for his employer.
-Jeff expected him by nine-thirty at the latest; but it was actually
-getting along toward ten-thirty before Jeff, who had been dozing lightly
-in the dim-lit hall, oblivious to the fanged attentions of some large
-mosquitoes, roused as he heard the sound of a rambling but familiar step
-clunking along the wooden sidewalk of Clay Street. The latch on the front
-gate clicked, and as Jeff poked his nose out of the front door he heard,
-down the aisle of trees that bordered the gravel walk, the voice of his
-master uplifted in solitary song.
-</p>
-<p>
-In the matter of song the judge had a peculiarity. It made no difference
-what the words might be or the theme—he sang every song and all
-songs to a fine, thin, tuneless little air of his own. At this moment
-Judge Priest, as Jeff gathered, showed a wide range of selection. One
-second he was announcing that his name it was Joe Bowers and he was all
-the way from Pike, and the next, stating, for the benefit of all who might
-care to hear these details, that they—presumably certain horses—were
-bound to run all night—bound to run all day; so you could bet on the
-bobtailed nag and he'd bet on the bay. Nearer to the porch steps it
-boastingly transpired that somebody had jumped aboard the telegraf and
-steered her by the triggers, whereat the lightnin' flew and 'lectri-fied
-and killed ten thousand niggers! But even so general a catastrophe could
-not weigh down the singer's spirits. As he put a fumbling foot upon the
-lowermost step of the porch, he threw his head far back and shrilly issued
-the following blanket invitation to ladies resident in a faraway district:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, Bowery gals, won't you come out to-night? Won't you come out
-to-night?
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, Bowery gals, won't you come out to-night, And dance by the light of
-the moon?
-</p>
-<p>
-“I danced with a gal with a hole in her stockin'; And her heel it kep'
-a-rockin'—kep' a-rockin'! She was the purtiest gal in the room!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Jeff pulled the front door wide open. The song stopped and Judge Priest
-stood in the opening, teetering a little on his heels. His face was all a
-blushing pink glow—pinker even than common.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Evenin', Jedge!” greeted Jeff. “You're late, suh!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Jeff,” said Judge Priest slowly, “it's a beautiful evenin'.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Amazed, Jeff stared at him. As a matter of fact, the drizzle of the
-afternoon had changed, soon after dark, to a steady downpour. The judge's
-limpened hat brim dripped raindrops and his shoulders were sopping wet,
-but Jeff had yet to knowingly and wilfully contradict a prominent white
-citizen.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yas, suh!” he said, half affirmatively, half questioningly. “Is it?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It is so!” said Judge Priest. “Every star in the sky shines like a
-diamond! Jeff, it's the most beautiful evenin' I ever remember!”
- </p>
-<div style="height: 6em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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